Chains of Command
by Eilike
Summary: Sebastian's grandmother pays a visit and Ciel is suspicious as to her motives. His fears are justified, when Sebastian is bound by an ancient spell overruling their existing pact. Will Ciel get his butler back, before the demon gets the better of him?
1. Bedtime Stories

(July 2012 - I've been revising this story regarding the punctuation marks and a few mistakes in wording. I did not change the contents, not even my author's notes. But with a lot of commas erased from the text and some incorrect words replaced, I really believe it's more enjoyable to read now. Which is important, since I find myself thinking about a sequel :) )

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When I finished uploading my first fanfic on this site only four weeks ago, I had no idea that a manga like "Black Butler" even existed. I came across Ciel and Sebastian by coincidence (and a well-assorted manga-collection in a bookstore far away from home). And here I am now, getting them in trouble already. I guess, Sebastian is just too annoyingly perfect to be left alone. Makes me itch to ruffle his hair some and see, how he looks afterwards.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian or Ciel or any of the characters of "Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler". The Devil's Grandmother is folklore, I guess. Anyway, I don't own her, either. I do not make money from this.

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Chapter 1: Bedtime stories

The messenger was beautiful. She was lithe and lissom. She was of noble blood.

He named her "Giulietta" right away, and he had the feeling that she liked the name.

_She could never be his. _His master had decided he could not keep a pet. Ciel just had no idea what a look into a cat's amber eyes might tell you.

In this case, it was more than the usual promise of "I'll trade my haughty company for your food". Giulietta had been sent to Phantomhive Manor and its butler to announce a rare visitor.

Sebastian put the cat down on the window sill and asked her to return later in the evening ("When the night is as pitch black as your silken fur, _Julie_").

He would be there. Now, however, he needed to find Earl Phantomhive and tell him about the change in the schedule for today's evening.

As it befitted a proper demon, Sebastian's visitor arrived in the middle of a late afternoon thunderstorm. However, she did not seem to appreciate it. Ciel heard her complaining on his way from the study, "...always raining cats and dogs. It's never been different, not in the days of William the Conqueror, not at the court of Henry VIII or anytime in between. Not one single day of sunshine, I swear!" There was a short pause and then her voice again, "I'm most certainly _not_, young one! It _is_ the truth as sincere as I feel it!"

Ciel braced himself. He'd not been too eager when Sebastian had found him in his study and filled him in on the news that his grandmother would stop over for a visit tonight.

_"Your grandmother?" Ciel had asked. "Tonight? That's...a bit surprising, isn't it?"_

_"It's her way. The Devil's Grandmother is wherever she likes and whenever she chooses to be," Sebastian had answered enigmatically. "Always and forever, to the end of time." _

_"So I take it she's old. But is she...nice?"_

_"Awfully nice. A hell of a nice grandma," Sebastian had dead-panned. "Like straight from fairytales."_

Ciel had spent the last couple of hours doing research on theology and folklore. But nowhere had he found a description of the demon he was about to meet.

He was positively surprised: Standing in his hallway was a rather tall, white-haired lady. She wore an old-fashioned dress, coloured pale blue like a morning sky in spring, and a big, elegant hat with a black veil draped on the brim. She had been busy shaking her umbrella that was tall enough to be used as a walking stick. Now, she looked at him.

"Grandmother?" asked Sebastian. "May I introduce you to my current master? Earl Ciel Phantomhive."

"My pleasure, Earl," the old lady said. When she smiled, Ciel caught the slightest of ideas that her eyeteeth were sharper than the usual set. Her eyes were a reddish brown, just like Sebastian's.

"Welcome to Phantomhive, Lady...?"

"Grandmother," the lady demon prompted.

"But that's what you are," Ciel protested. "It's not a name."

"I hereby declare it a name," the lady demon said. "I declare it to be _my_ name. Grandmother. It's a title of honour. Maybe even more so than an inherited coat of arms. No offense intended."

"Er...none taken", Ciel replied, casting his smirking butler a venomous glance.

Another thunderclap shook the building.

"What a nasty afternoon," Grandmother said. "Well, we'll make the most of it. Why don't you two go and light up the fireplace? I'll bring the cake. We'll have tea and storys."

Sebastian obviously took the suggestion as an order. Before Ciel could protest he was scooped up and carried off. He ended up sitting on the sofa in his parlour. Sebastian was already at work, stacking up logs.

"Storys?" Ciel asked dully.

"Grandmother is a great storyteller," Sebastian explained and added, "I wonder, what we'll have for tea."

"We? Shouldn't you be out there, giving the proper instructions?"

"That will not be necessary. Grandmother will bring the cake. And I have already taken the liberty of preparing your tea. It's right beside you."

There was indeed a teapot on a warmer and fine china laid out ready on a small table at Ciel's armrest. "But when did you -?" Seeing Sebastian's gentle smile take on a touch of spite, Ciel shook his head. "Never mind."

Sipping his tea, Ciel sat and watched his butler busy himself with the kindling. Sebastian was gifted at starting fires. That probably came with his nature. When the first flames sprang from the logs, he put away the bellows and gently breathed into the flames until he was sure they would not go out again. Then he sat on a chair beside the fireplace, the iron poker on his lap. Ciel watched him with his one eye narrowed: Of course there was not the tiniest flake of soot on Mr. Perfect Butler's face, hands or tailcoat.

Seeing his master's glare, Sebastian chuckled silently to himself.

As if she'd been summoned by the flames, Grandmother stood next to Ciel's sofa. She carried a pie and looked for a place to deposit it. "Young one? Why don't you come over and sit beside your master?"

Sebastian sobered up instantly, "I don't think that's decent, Grandmother."

"Decent!" she snorted, putting the pie on the little table next to Ciel's tea cup. "What's decent? Today, tomorrow, yesterday? A century ago and a millennium from now? Maybe it's not considered 'decent' in the here and now. But it's comfortable."

"It's alright, Sebastian," Ciel said, distracted by the delicious smell of the pie and vaguely afraid they'd never get down to eating it. "Come and sit with me."

Sebastian sat on the sofa and craned his neck to have a closer look at his Grandmother's gift. "Apple pie? Er...Grandmother, but that's not apples from The Tree? Garden of Eden, '_Eritis sicut deus_...', and so on, remember? The young master is human just like _they_ were."

Grandmother produced a knife and cut the pie. "Never fear, young one. These are ordinary fruits. As long as you didn't tamper with the tree in your master's garden, that is."

"Apples from my garden?" Ciel asked. "But it's March."

"It will be October. when I pluck them", Grandmother explained patiently. "Next year, to be precise. This year's harvest won't be sweet and juicy enough."

_The Devil's Grandmother is wherever she likes and whenever she chooses to be. Always and forever, to the end of time._

Ciel began to see what his butler had tried to get across. He picked up a piece of the apple pie and put it into his mouth. His taste-buds fell in love immediately. There was the distinguished flavour of apples, and it was delicious. But there was more. Ciel thought he could sense the sun that had given sweetness to the fruits. He smelled the rain that had washed the dust from the gleaming surface of the red and golden orb. Butterflies, bees, swallows in the sky. The warmth of a lazy summer afternoon had been captured and turned into taste.

Ciel look up. "This is marvellous. Unbelievable."

"It's called 'temptation'," Sebastian said, but very, very softly. He watched Ciel go for another piece and smiled shrewdly.

Meanwhile, Grandmother had stooped beside the fire and retrieved a pear-shaped bottle and three long-stemmed glasses. She placed them on the mantlepiece and filled them with a golden liqueur.

Ciel motioned Sebastian to lean over. "Where did she get these?" he whispered, munching his pie. "It looked like she somehow pulled them straight out of the fire?"

His butler whispered back, "She did. Fire's an easy shortcut, well, _home_, you know?"

"She reached into _my_ fire and into _her_ larder? Can you do that, too?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, do you remember when you caught me 'burning' that book?"

"_Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea_. Of course I remember. It was one of my favorites."

"Actually, I was passing it on to my cousin. By the by, he liked it too. - Thank you, Grandmother." Sebastian took the glass his grandmother handed him.

"What's that?" Ciel asked, accepting his glass and smelling the sweet aroma of the drink.

"Liqueur of mirabelles from the gardens of Versailles. I plucked them while the French Revolution raged in the city of Paris."

Ciel took a sip and the experience of tasting the apple pie repeated itself.

"Easy, young master," Sebastian warned. "This is something even I might get drunk on."

"You might." Ciel smirked evilly and clutched the bottle's neck. "But you won't, since it's all mine."

Sebastian stifled a sigh. It was always highly enjoyable to see humans fall for the saturation of some petty, mortal desire. It always became a nuisance, when you felt that same petty desire yourself and had to start competing.

"Are you two warm and cozy?" Grandmother had seated herself in Ciel's armchair. She held a book on her knees. The volume was bound in leather and looked old and worn. "All ready and set?"

Ciel still refused to believe that an ancient demon would show up just to feed him apple pie and read stories to him. Sebastian opened his crimson eyes just wide enough to meet Ciel's gaze. "You don't need to be anxious, young master. Grandmother is not going to harm you. Enjoy the stories."

"But this is so _weird!_"

"The devil has quite a reputation for being impulsive, unpredictable and driven by the whim of a moment," Grandmother said.

"He's also known for never doing anything without a purpose," Ciel pointed out.

"Well, that will be cousin Beelzebub, then," Grandmother said dryly. "Anyway, what makes you think there's no purpose in telling a story just for the sake of telling it?"

"Er..."

Seeing him at a loss for words, Grandmother nodded contently and opened her book.

"Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away...," she started.

A lot had happened once upon a time and far away from British dominion, Ciel realized before long. It seemed that Devil and Man had been at each other for an eternity, and Grandmother remembered it all. There were poor, but smart farmers, making appalling bargains with the demons and coming out on top. There were less smart, but noble girls in dire need of being rescued. There inevitably was some youth willing to risk his life and soul for the girl's sake. Ciel listened and learned: About fervent promises made only to be broken as the tide turned. Treaties were observed to the very letter and thereby taken to the absurd. Conditions were only as good as the morales of the person supposed to heed them, and words could be contorted like the thorny twigs of thick brambles: You might get hurt.

But then again, you might find a berry.

The only thing slightly disturbing about Grandmother's storytelling was her attitude of calling the devil by a name: "Uncle Friedrich" was the one who got duped by the clever orphaned goose-boy. "Cousin Pierre" had almost (but only almost) got the better of that old king and his seven daughters. And "that foolish brat Charlie" had actually collected an impressive amount of souls, since he specialized in shipwrecking. ("It's amazing, the inspiration one can draw from reading a novel by Jules Verne," Sebastian muttered into his mirabelle liqueur.) But without doubt some dauntless sailor was already on his way to avenge his comrades, and –

"Before long, Charlie, too, will find out that one should not count his fire salamanders while they're still tadpoles," Grandmother concluded. "There's an awful lot of big fish out there who'll enjoy tadpoles for starters. My tales, however, will end for now."

When all remained quiet but for the cackle of the dying fire, Ciel opened his eye. His first glance went to the big clock: It was past ten, his bedtime.

He looked around and found Sebastian dozing in the other corner of the sofa. The demon held his glass in his lap and casually supported his head with his left hand, his elbow on the backrest. His eyes were closed, his smile uncharacteristically peaceful and relaxed. He looked an innocent. However, he had managed to pinch the liqueur bottle from Ciel without the boy noticing.

"Young one?" Grandmother said. "How about finishing your drink and taking your ward to his room?"

Sebastian woke with a little start. Obviously, he, like Ciel before, was returning from "a kingdom far away", and having trouble with it. He also was tipsy. Ciel noticed, but he was too preoccupied in his own daydreams to bother: On the way to his room the young Earl kept thinking about brave-hearted boys, no older than himself, and how they, being clever and invincible, rescued their damsels in distress. Getting ready for bed, he reflected on how the damsel looked very much like Miss Elizabeth, and the hero more often than not wore an eye patch.

Then Ciel was tucked in by his butler, and the need to communicate arose when so far there had been an absent-minded silence between them.

Smiling dreamily, Sebastian asked for Ciel's wishes for breakfast, and just as dreamily Ciel said, "Storys", before correcting himself, "Toasted bread, and, er... I dunno. Mirabelle jam."

"Very well," Sebastian said politely, trying to make it sound like he cared. When Ciel dismissed him to return to his own room, it took some effort to be patient and walk through the corridors instead of – well, just _being_ there.

Giulietta was already outside the window, turning on the narrow sill, meowing and rubbing her sides against the pane.

"Did I keep you waiting? I'm sorry!" Sebastian ran his finger along the cat's spine and watched her back fur ripple in response. He caught her and began to scratch her sides with both hands.

When the attack came, it happened too fast for a demon completely off-guard and merrily contemplating fairytales and the beauty of felines with Italian names.

A wire loop was cast around Sebastian's neck and pulled tight. He was hauled through the window by the combined strength and effort of three men. The forth tackled him as his back hit the ground. "With my voice I claim you, with my sigil I mark you, with fire I engrave your name onto your soul: Samiel!"

The assaulter pressed something to Sebastian's brow that felt like a white-hot branding iron. Sebastian dealt the man a backhanded slap. Tearing at the noose, he yanked the three man off their feet.

"Samiel!"

Horrified, Sebastian felt something inside himself respond. He ripped the noose and scrambled to his feet, getting ready to strike back.

"Samiel!" the voice boomed for the third time. "Stop! I command you!"

Sebastian froze. He could not help it. The man's order seemed to pierce his brain like a very thin and searing hot spike. A bag was pulled over Sebastian's head and some hard item brought down on his skull. Yet, he could've taken the blow easily. The real problem lay in the deeply disturbing fact that an alien name was establishing itself within his very being. The basic shock that such a thing should be possible and actually happening to him was accompanied by an excruciating sensation of dizziness and confusion that proved impossible to put up with.

Sebastian blacked out as the stranger's spell took hold.

+++End of Chapter 1+++

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A/N: Well, this is as far as I'll tell the story tonight. Hope you enjoyed the entrance; if you did, please let me know and there'll be "serious ruffling" coming up soon.


	2. Dive Bar Games

Hello. You're back - that's nice. Thanks for the reviews. As to the question, what made me dub Sebastian a "devil" - well, that's what the official translation of the manga in my home country did. A "devil", that's even how he refers to himself. It's what gave me the idea for this fanfic in the first place. (If anyone missed the point that English is not my native language, I'd be thrilled ;) )

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, the "Ferro clan" or any other characters featured in or related to "Kuroshitsuji" ("Black Butler") and I do not make money from this.

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Chapter 2: Dive Bar Games

"It worked. It really worked!"

The words trickled into Sebastian's returning consciousness. His head ached and he wished Bard would pipe down. There was no reason for a chef to perform a happy dance over something as common as a well-prepared breakfast.

"Just put it down somewhere," he said. "I'll serve it right away."

"He's willing to serve! Did you hear?"

Slowly, Sebastian realized that something was wrong: The voice, the smells, the feel of his bed – this was not Phantomhive. He was grabbed by a big hand and shaken rather rudely. "Hey! You there! Demon! You hear me?"

Sebastian nodded and wondered why he was being so compliant. He found himself in the company of four men, sailors by their attire. He sat on the ground in some corner of a dusky alley, his back leaned against a cold brick wall. The rancid stench of fish told him he was near the port.

The smell was really bad.

Fortunately, things like that did not affect him.

They never did.

_For hea- headache's sake, he wished someone would put the bag back over his head._

Meanwhile, the voice rattled off a list of commands: _Don't move, don't talk, don't try anything funny, don't bite, maim, charm or magic or whatever it is that you'd like to do right now._

Sebastian wanted to throw up apple pie and mirabelle liqueuer, and it went without saying that he didn't need to be told to contain himself.

His sad condition obviously did not escape his captors' attention.

"Are you alright?" A stocky seaman with sunburnt cheeks and bad teeth, and apparently the owner of The Voice, leaned forward to get a closer look. He took off his cap and scratched his head. His hair was thinning, and because it was blonde to the point of actually being colourless, his red scalp was shining through.

Sebastian was not sure how he felt. Reaching for his brow, he found a palm-sized sensitive spot and probed it with his fingers.

"I put my mark on you," said the stocky sailor, as it seemed not without pride. "My name's Thomas. The crew calls me ‚Tuna Tom'. Your name's Samiel. At least that's how I named you. Guess that makes me your master."

"Mark?" Sebastian asked, slowly turning his head to look at his captor.

Tuna Tom produced an item that looked like the ivory hilt of a dagger. He was smart enough to keep his distance, but despite the relative darkness Sebastian had no trouble seeing what he needed to see: It really was the hilt of a dagger. Probably the weapon had come in handy when the tool had been assembled. A silver plate had been fastened where the blade should have been. Engraved in the smooth surface was a complicated pattern of lines, weaving and intertwining like two vines.

Sebastian knew the symbol. It was an ancient seal, powerful enough to rule most demons known to the magicians of ancient Babylon who had first come up with the design.

Now, Sebastian could make sense of the sensitive area on his brow and the painful assault: His captor had used the tool on him. The pattern had been burned into his forehead. It sat there like a big, black spider, waiting for his new master to give him orders. These it would enhance - and relentlessly punish any attempt to put up resistance.

"I don't understand," Sebastian said, forming his wordly cautiously so as to avoid the nausea. "What is this all about?"

Tom waved a newspaper, "You're the demon that took out the Ferro Family."

"I am merely a butler."

"Aye, that's what you said then," Tom said, sounding content. "I happen to know one of the lads who survived. He says you introduced yourself before you started going up walls and flinging forks into people's eyes. He says, you said you were the butler of the Phantomhive family. So, when we went looking for someone fitting the 'out-of-this-world' demon bill, we didn't have to look very far."

_Touché!_

Making a mental note to watch where he flaunted his position at future encounters, Sebastian tried another approach, "Where did you get that seal?"

"A gift from the mermaids, it seems," Tuna Tom said. "We found it in a treasure box during our last journey." He cleared his throat. "I've already given you your standing orders. But as there's a chance you didn't latch on, I'll repeat them: You will not hurt me. In any way. You will not just stand there and look on as I get hurt by someone. Or something. In that case, you are bound to do your best to help me. You will not get in contact with your former master. Or any of the household. Don't speak to any of them or write letters or whatever. You will, er, not try to run off. If I give you an order, you won't dawdle. Er. I believe that's it. For the beginning."

No point in trying to resist just now. The man was a simpleton. Unfortunately, the tool he had so naively used had been devised by masters of their profession. A knife in the hand of a toddler was still a knife and potentially deadly as such. Sebastian knew that if he simply walked away, the ancient sigil on his brow would spring to life. And he did not want to show his new "master" just how powerful that bloody thing really was.

And of course, there was this minor affair of a lesson to be taught and a little revenge for personal inconvenience to be wreaked.

"What do we do now, Tom?" one of the sailors asked.

"We-e-ell...," Tom stroked his shaven chin. Since he had not really expected the magic to work, he was faced with a challenge. "Let's see what he can do, how about that? Samiel? You know how to handle a knife? A real knife, not the butter scrapers you used on Azzorro Vener's people?"

Sebastian felt not inclined to answer, but he had no choice. "As the butler to the Phantom- no, as a serf to - oh well. Yes. Yes, I know how to handle a real knife."

"You see that dive over there?"

"I see it. "

"You go in there and find a man called Sharktooth Rob. At this time of day he's always there, sitting at one of the tables back in the shadows. They say there's nothing can surprise him. Nothing new for him between the sky and the sea and the ground of the sea and maybe even below that. He's seen it all, in his days. And there's no one handles a knife expertlier than old Rob. You don't have to kill him, for starters. Just scare the old crock shitless. If you can, take the gold ring from his left hand. That's the one he took from me last time. Oh, and while you're at it anyways, give him my kind regards. That will faze him, wish I could see it."

On his way across the street Sebastian tested the consequences of resisting the command. He felt a pressure building up behind his forehead, and when he actually strayed from the direct way, a searing pain shot through his head. For two seconds he reeled, trying to remember his name. 'Samiel' came to mind easily, but 'Sebastian' was battling him desperately. As soon as he resumed walking towards the assigned location, the confusion passed, and he was able to settle for 'Sebastian' once more. With 'Samiel' lurking nearby, waiting for a slip and his chance to take over.

So, this was how it was going to be. From butler to bully. It was funny, the directions life among humans could take.

Sebastian opened the pub's door and entered.

The inn was a dark, smokey place, filled with voices, smells and bulky bodies. Men were playing cards, they were rolling dices, they were drinking, singing and calling profanities to the barmaids who talked back in even worse language.

Naturally, Sebastian's entry did not pass unnoticed. The noise subsided somewhat, as more and more guests became aware of the arrival. Inevitably, someone tried to trip him. Just as inevitably, Sebastian gracefully avoided the obstacle. A barmaid stood in his way, smiling and purring an obscene invitation.

The butler simply smiled amiably, his crimson eyes meeting hers. She fell silent immediately. She would sit in the filthy kitchen afterwards and tell the other girls that for the tiniest fraction of a moment, she had actually _seen_ the things he suggested as an agreeable way of putting her flippant offer into practice.

_Bad things?_ they would ask.

_Interesting things,_ she answered. _Fanciful things. Very imaginative._

_So what's so bad about it, then?_ The barmaids were past giggling over such matters. But they could still be inquisitive like girls.

_You don't understand! He didn't give me _the idea_! He gave me _the picture_! Straight into my brains! I saw myself wearing high heels and – oh, stop laughing Josy, I tell you he's a ghost or something!_

At that, they all fell silent.

Because their comrade was right, and there was something uncanny about this butler.

Sebastian had walked straight to the table where he'd spotted his assigned victim. The old sailor awaited him. Somehow, it felt as if everyone in the crammed room had known where the butler was headed. It felt, as if the living legend seated in the shadows had commanded them to let him pass, like stepping through a curtain that parted before him.

Sharktooth Rob had thin, white hair that fell openly to his shoulders. His beard was no more than stubble, growing from darkened and leathery skin. His blue eyes had retained their keen gaze, even after a lifetime of staring at the sparkling sea. A large knife lay before him on the table that was perforated by the marks of earlier games of wielding the blade.

"I was ordered to deliver kind regards," Sebastian said without introduction.

"From whom?"

"I was not ordered to reveal that information," Sebastian said truthfully. "However, I was told that you have seen it all, the things between sky and sea and the ground of the sea and maybe even below that..."

"And what if?" Sharktooth Rob grinned. Despite his nickname, his gums were almost toothless, black and eaten by scurvy.

"What would it cost me to make you tell me one or two of your stories?"

Sharktooth Rob looked at the surrounding crowd and rolled his eyes. "Your soul?" he suggested, dragging out the word to make it sound hollow and ironical.

"I'm game." Sebastian slipped onto the chair, maybe a trifle too eagerly. He knew that the sensation was deceiving, but for the first time in two years he almost felt – free. Free to do as his whim commanded him. Free to play, and taunt, and twist words and conditions like brambles, looking for the berries.

He reminded himself that he was not doing this for his own pleasure altogether. "Or, well, how about this pocket watch? It's Sterling silver and very reliable. I would put it at stake, if you considered doing the same with the golden ring I see on your finger."

"You are serious, aren't you?" Sharktooth Rob asked.

"Do I look like I jest?" the butler retorted. "Spin a yarn for me, Sharktooth. Put your ring on the table beside my watch. Let's play."

Never taking his eyes off his contender, Sharktooth Rob pulled off the ring and placed it on the table. "Do you know how my game is played, boy?"

Slowly, so as not to alarm the man, Sebastian took the knife and placed his left hand on the table. He drove the knifepoint into the table, first to the right of his wrist, then to the left. Next, he ticked off the spaces between his spread fingers, one at a time, from the left to the right and back again.

Sharktooth Rob laughed with delight. "Not bad for a penguin. My turn. Then we'll have a drink. Then I'll tell you a story or two. Then we play again. The winner gets his prize."

"And the loser?" Sebastian asked.

"Tastes the sharktooth." Rob took the knife and turned it, making the light gleam on the blade. "I already did once or twice, so I'll use my left hand to do the stabbing. Would be unfair to have only three fingers on the table."

"That's very considerate of you. But I would like to point out that, if anything, it would be unfair of me to leave unmentioned the fact that - " Sebastian fell silent and watched, as Rob ticked off the spaces between the fingers of his right hand. He went slowly at first, but he quickly picked up speed. The onlookers cheered.

_Well, if a somewhat long-winded explanation was not appreciated, then so be it._

When Rob put down the knife, Sebastian took it and imitated the old sailor's performance. The onlookers were increasingly enthralled.

"You're the bloodiest crazed landlubber I've met in a long time!" Sharktooth Rob said, as the knife hammered down like a flock of woodpeckers busily at work in a forest of dead trees. "Alright, that's it for round one. Let's have a drink and a tale."

Sebastian picked up the glass that had been put before him. He was at least so decent to grimace a little when the rum burnt its way down his throat. A dozen bystanders sighed as one, their hopes of seeing the strange butler choke and getting at least some kind of laugh at his expense deceived.

Behind the men surrounding their table Sebastian saw Tom and his little gang enter the inn. They had probably started wondering what kept him so long. They looked puzzled as they settled at a table in some distance, watching in consternation. He could have told them that he was still busy pursueing his assignment.

But he did not want to abandon the great, scary story Sharktooth Rob had started to tell. It was about a sailor hearing the voice of his wife speak to him from the snot of a speared dolphin and drowning at the desperate attempt to save the creature's orphaned cub. "And the men who witnessed this are good and honest men, indeed. And they report that the last thing heard of the poor wretch was his heartfelt cry: ‚He's got my boy's eeyyyyees-' But then again, it was a stormy night, and what seemed like a doomed man's voice may have been only the howl of the storm in the rigging..." Sharktooth Rob's voice trailed off. He rolled his eyes, looking at each face in the crowd. He looked at his opponent who countered his gaze with a level glance of his own. "Now, that was my story. Are you ready for round two?"

Tom and his gang did not seem as if they were going to come over and claim their servant. One of the girls was at their table, a blonde-haired, heavily made-up whore whose blouse covered her upper endowments only scantily. Tom seemed engaged in heated argument with her. Well, not all could be as obedient and reliable as a demon spell-bound and committed to his job.

Silently, Sebastian counted the stabs of the knife as he picked up on his game again. His mind was on lessons to be taught and revenge to be wreaked.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, all good butlers go to heaven..._

+++End of Chapter 2+++

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Well, enough storytelling for tonight. I'm sorry, Ciel was was not in it, but he'll soon find out about his butler's disappearance. And just in case you're wondering what the hell Sebastian's up to - I guess, there'll be an answer for that, too.


	3. A Good Butler is hard to find

Here we are for chapter 3. I'm sorry I kept you waiting. There were some details I wasn't satisfied with, but I fixed them (or so I believe) and here we go.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, or any other characters featured in or related to "Kuroshitsuji" ("Black Butler"), I don't own "Kuroshitsuji" itself, and I do not make money from this.

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Chapter 3: "A Good Butler (is hard to find)"

Ciel woke in the dead hours of the night, feeling thirsty. Unwilling to strike a match, he rang for his butler. And waited.

Nothing stirred. Ciel frowned.

"Sebastian?" he asked into the dark. "Come!"

* * *

At the bar the strange butler seemed to lose his step. Eyes wide open, he stiffened and stared ahead without really looking at anything. The point of his knife hovered less than an inch above his hand, frozen in mid-stab. Thus he remained, three seconds, four, five...staring at something only he could see, listening to voices only he could hear. His audience held their breath.

"Rum affecting him at last," someone said. Somehow, the explanation did not seem likely. But it made sense. There was a collective sigh of relief.

* * *

In the darkness of his sleeping room, his throat parched and his temper rising, Ciel summoned his butler by the authority of their contract, with the determination of a snubbish twelve-year-old and for the sake of good old British tradition, all at once and with a vengeance. "Sebastian! You know exactly I do not approve of such games! Come!"

* * *

It was not as bad as Sebastian had imagined. Sure enough, he knew Ciel was calling for his butler. But somehow, he did not really feel like it was any of his business. He was just a stranger eavesdropping. Someone who had picked up the receiver and found that due to some strange technical defect he could listen to other people talking.

He knew that Sebastian Michaelis was bound by his contract to follow his master's call. But there was another name now that chained him to another master. And all in all, Ciel did not really have reason to complain. Not yet.

"Sometimes, you're a real pest, young master," the demon whispered, red eyes glittering. "Sometimes, I think you don't have trust in me at all! Will you deign to look to your left, before you throw a royal tantrum?"

* * *

"Sometimes, you're a real bastard, Sebastian," Ciel muttered, fumbling for the candle. "I guess I'm a bloody fool to trust you." He found the matches and lit the candle. He looked about, hoping yet to see his butler's familiar shape emerge from the shadows. His eyes caught sight of the crystal water pitcher on the bedside table to his left.

"Oh." Ciel did not feel silly for longer than half a second. Yet, his temper cooled down, as he was able to quench his thirst. And even though he still wondered why Sebastian had not come at his call, he was not really concerned as he burrowed back in the pillows. Some way or other, his butler had taken care of his, Ciel's, wishes like he was expected to. Like he was bound to do. Untroubled, Ciel went back to sleep. _All would be well._

* * *

At the pub, the butler narrowed his eyes and started to smile. It was not a pleasant smile. It had the malicious quality of a chain dog giving its spiked collar a tentative tug and feeling the thing come off.

Tuna Tom, who had reached out his hand to touch his demon's shoulder, flinched. "You alright, Samiel?"

"It's _Sebastian_," the butler said, smirking, and rammed the knife into the table by way of emphasis.

Tom virtually backed off one step. "Oh – oh, alright! Sebastian. Sure. Now, er, maybe we should call it a night and - " Tom left the phrase unfinished and Sebastian, still smirking, did not feel inclined to help him out.

Sharktooth Rob broke the uncomfortable silence. "He's your butler, Tom? Clatter my clams, that guy's uncanny. We're down to round nine and he's still looking at me with those red eyes of his. Plays the knife game without properly looking and without so much as a scratch to his gentleman skin - "

Sebastian turned his attention to the old sailor: _Now's the moment. Please, please, pretty ple-_

"Scares me shitless, that's what he's doing," Sharktooth Rob said, as if on cue.

"Me too," someone agreed.

Sebastian snickered softly. "Mission achieved, master."

"Er...," said Tom. He felt pretty sure that he'd been duped. But he was just not able to pinpoint what had gone wrong.

"Now, as to the gold ring..." Taking the knife, Sebastian slammed his hand on the table, his fingers spread just wide enough to allow for the blade to fit in between. When he resumed his game, the hammering stabs fell so fast that their sounds blended into one whirring noise.

Sharktooth Rob reached over and stayed the demon's hand. Sebastian stopped and looked at the maimed hand closing over his: thumb and forefinger, a crippled middle finger, no ring finger and only a small stump of the pinkie.

"I know what creature you are, sir," Sharktooth Rob said. "Will I lose yet another limb tonight?"

Sebastian answered just as levelly, "Yes. You will. Unless we abandon the game now."

"I couldn't. I've never been one to back out of a challenge." Looking determined, however a trifle forlorn, Sharktooth Rob let go of Sebastian's hand and nodded him go on.

Moving without haste, Sebastian stabbed the knife in the back of his own hand and pushed the silver watch toward his opponent. "It's yours, if you will have it."

"A token of an unearned victory. A favor to be called in some day." Sharktooth Rob shook his head and placed his gold ring before the demon in return. "No obligations to the likes of you, sir. I have risked a lot in my day: fortunes, health, love, sanity and my very life, over and over again. But my soul has always been mine, and mine alone. So, please, sir, do not tempt me."

Dispassionately, Sebastian held the ring over his shoulder, relying on his master to take it. Tom grabbed the trinket, while the demon and the old sailor regarded each other. There was no sympathy in their smile, no warmth. At most, they acknowledged each other's ways and decisions.

Sebastian's thoughts were showing in his ironic smile as he cast down his eyes: _Well, it couldn't hurt to give it a try..._

"You're bleeding, sir," the old sailor said.

Sebastian tore his hand away from the knife and flicked it carelessly, as if he were standing in a bathroom and missing a towel. Nobody really saw where the blood went, but it certainly was gone along with the wound when the butler reached for his watch. He checked the time. "Oh dear! I have procrastinated! Messieurs – please excuse me!"

Sebastian hastened off, but he only got as far as the door. Holding on to the latch, he staggered. "I forgot. I must not 'run off'. " He pressed the heel of his left hand to his brow. "Pain..."

"But you stabbed yourself with a knife only a minute ago, and it didn't seem to hurt you any," Tuna Tom tried to reason, casting a helpless glance at his comrades.

"You know," one of them muttered. "Now he's scaring me too."

* * *

Ciel was awakened by his servants who were in the garden, shouting at each other. Mey-Rin appeared hysteric, crying something about Sebastian not being where he should be, at a time when he always was. By the sounds of it, Bard was looking on the trees, tearing off their branches. He was looking behind the trees, cutting them down. And he was probably looking under the trees by blowing up their roots. Finny screamed that Sebastian was not in his room.

"Have you searched everywhere?" Bard shouted.

"Come and look for yourself," Finny yelled.

This, Bard obviously did, taking Mey-Rin with him.

Ciel sat up in his bed, enjoying the glorious silence, waiting. There was a polite knock at his door, but he could tell by the sound of it that it was not Sebastian.

It was Tanaka, serving his breakfast.

"Sebastian really is missing, isn't he," Ciel said casually, looking over the selection on his tray.

Tanaka cast down his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like an apology and a question at the same time.

"It's not your fault. But I can tell because I ordered mirabelle jam for my toasted bread," Ciel explained. "This is strawberry. Sebastian would've to be really beside himself to make such a blunder. And since it is not in his nature to be beside himself, he must be gone altogether."

Twenty minutes later, Ciel was searching the ground outside Sebastian's room. Finny had stated that Sebastian's window had been open when the gardener had come looking for him in the morning. Inspecting the site, Ciel thought that there might have been footprints of nightly visitors. Maybe even evidence of a fight.

But after three overzealous servants had trampled the ground, it was impossible to tell for sure.

Ciel was swearing softly under his breath when he saw Grandmother strolling his way. She wore a green dress and a gray hat and was obviously enjoying the beautiful morning. She smiled at the butterflies, waved her hand at the thrush that was singing in a birch tree and stooped to sniff a daffodil.

"Good morning, you're Earl-y," she said, amused by the pun.

"On the contrary," Ciel said, skipping the introduction, "it seems I am too late to stop some mischief from happening. Sebastian is missing,"

Grandmother raised her eyebrows. "The way you say that. You make it sound like you assumed I locked him up in a gingerbread house and threatened to roast him."

"Well, did you?" Ciel asked without thinking.

"I certainly thought about it one time or another. But he'd probably have enjoyed the roasting bit, so it wasn't worth the effort." Grandmother touched the daffodil, and it transformed to a black rose which she subsequently plucked. "Do you worry about him?"

"No. I don't," Ciel replied firmly.

"Then why ask?"

"He's my butler. Good butlers are hard to find."

"Hard to find, but not impossible." Grandmother eyed the trampled ground with a telling expression. "You would not, by chance, promise me a soul - or two or maybe even three - if I hired you a new set of housekeeping staff? A _qualified_ bunch?"

"My soul is no longer available," Ciel said, refusing to catch up with her train of thought. It was just too perfidious. _A real grandmother from fairytales? Some tales, indeed._

"A pity, little one. For it is such a rare, delicious thing." She moved as if to touch the back of her hand that was holding the black rose to Ciel's cheek. "Your young, impatient soul. Stories need time to evolve."

"This is not a story," Ciel pointed out, flinching from her hand well before it brushed his skin.

"_Everything_ is a story when you look at it from a storyteller's peculiar perspective."

"Your perspective certainly is peculiar," Ciel said acidly. "Because in the stories you told us yesterday, the demon looked a proper Charlie almost every time."

"The Brothers Grimm had a lot of it backwards. But their wording is nice." Grandmother sighed. "Anyway, you've got a point there. Would that Charlie were a proper demon half as often as he screws things up."

"Now, what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, little one, that the rats have failed. Let's get the crows to the scene." Grandmother threw the black rose high in the air. A gust of wind gripped the flower, ripping off the petals that drifted downward. And the little black specks started to transform, to grow. They sprouted feathers and wings and beaks and claws. Gleaming black reptilian-looking eyes stared hostilely at Ciel as the birds gathered around Grandmother's feet, on her arms and shoulders and even on her head.

"You're going to send out this murder of crows to locate Sebastian?"

"To locate and report anything or anyone fit to shed some light on this mystery," Grandmother said, caressing the beak of the bird on her left shoulder. "But it is quite possible that I'll be the one doing the murdering."

She made a shoo-ing motion with both hands, and the birds took off as one. The flapping of their wings sounded like rain, the wind in their feathers whistled like storm. Within seconds, the garden was empty.

"What are we going to do while your messengers are on their way?" asked Ciel.

"We wait. What else is there to do?" Grandmother resumed walking down the path, humming to herself.

_What else, indeed?_

Ciel had some ideas for possible actions. Spread the news in the right places and with the right persons. Do some research in the library.

Call Sebastian, time and again. Hope that he'll get back to you, sooner or later. In a manner of speaking as well as in the literal sense.

_I've heard someone mention the name before, _Ciel thought as he watched Grandmother leave._ But who the deuce is Charlie?_

***End of Chapter 3***

* * *

A/N: So, that's it for tonight. I have decided to keep my chapters at a reasonable length, which means that I am always amazed at how short a text 2,500 words make. Chapter 4 is almost finished, so check for the update.


	4. Basic Snuffability

Hello. Thanks for reviewing and for coming back. Yes, I like Rob, too. But I really enjoyed what's coming up.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, or any other characters featured in or related to "Kuroshitsuji" ("Black Butler"), I don't own "Kuroshitsuji" itself, and I do not make money from this.

* * *

Chapter 4: Basic Snuffability

Tom and his small band lived in an abandoned counting house. It was a four-storeyed building near the docks that had once been painted red. The paint had bleached and was coming off in flakes. Parts of the roof lay on the pavement, and the men stumbled over the debris on their way into their hide-out.

They occupied the rooms on the first floor, and they had prepared one of them for the demon in their company. Someone had fixed a horseshoe above the door. Someone had used white chalk to draw pentagrams on the steps. There were peacock feathers, symbolizing the ‚Evil Eye', and a little horned puppet, made of straw and pinned to the window frame. There were four-leafed clovers, mistle-toe, various religious symbols and even a statue of some naked goddess whose endowments would, in a real woman, certainly have stopped any male creature with a reasonably human mindset from going anywhere.

All in all, the room radiated a great uncertainty of what to do with a demon after the thrill of the actual capture had passed.

They did not attempt to restrain Sebastian by worldly means. However, they heaped orders and commands on him that all boiled down to one message: He was to stay on the very spot they had placed him. No tricks, no noise. Just stay put.

Maybe cringe a little, if he must.

Time and again, Sebastian felt the tug of the contract that bound him to the Earl Phantomhive. Time and again, Ciel's call was counteracted by the new restrictions that had come with the new name. As triumphant as the demon had considered himself when Tom had restored to him the use of 'Sebastian', it now proved a very inconvenient arrangement. You obviously couldn't be 'a little spellbound' and take your pick, when the spell messed with your very identity. 'Samiel' resided within the black symbol, and his struggles for supremacy left 'Sebastian' feeling disoriented and almost feverish.

To make the dizziness bearable, Sebastian huddled against the wall and sat with his eyes closed. He tried to relax, and he tried somehow to pass the message to Ciel that he'd be doing what he could to return to Phantomhive, _but please, please, young master, stop calling out like this_._ I can't think, I can't move, sometimes I can't even remember who I am, only that I am starved for souls, and this is bad because, well, no one wants a demon to be reduced to _that_..._

Then, after an unmeasured time, the disturbing sensation actually ceased. Sebastian remembered Ciel's schedule for this morning, and yes - he'd probably preside the board meeting of directors now. Sebastian could not tell for sure whether he actually lost consciousness or just slipped deeper into his half-dreaming state. But the world faded, time passed, and he did wake with a start when Tom spoke to him, "Hey, demon? You awake?"

Sebastian opened his eyes.

"Gee, you look sick, mate," Tom said. "Is it because of the spell?"

Sebastian didn't answer.

"Listen. We didn't want to hurt you. It's just, well, we're in trouble. Long story. We can end it tonight though, living happily ever after. If you help us, that is."

Tom's prisoner kept looking at him with an indifferent expression that was somehow even harder to bear than the demon's occasional sinister smile.

"But before we get down to business, I'll have a personal favour to ask," Tom continued. "You see, there is this girl. Josy. I – she promised she'd wait for me. But I learn there's this guy. Living at her place, making out with her, probably even now as we talk."

"What are your orders?" Sebastian asked, getting fed up with this simpleton talking to him. "Do you want me to scare him shitless? Hide his clothes? Spirit him to the north pole and maroon him on an iceberg?"

Tom looked cheerful, "Sounds good, all of it and in that order. Yes. I wouldn't mind if the bastard snuffed it. That would teach him to keep his hands off another guy's sweetheart."

"Very well." Sebastian climbed to his feet. "Do you want me to leave immediately?"

"We're coming with you. I guess there's orders that would make you do exactly what you're supposed to. But I'm not sure I know how to put them. So all I can do is watch you as closely as I can. Right?"

"You're certainly not easy to fool, master," Sebastian said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

Tom beamed.

* * *

Noon had already passed when Sebastian and the band of sailors reached the house where Josy and her lover had made their nest. There was nothing romantic about the place, however. It was a three-storeyed building, set in a dead end and surrounded by higher buildings. The sun never reached the pavement to dry up the rain, so the street was covered in slimy filth and reeked of foulness.

Since Tuna Tom had located Josy's rooms in the third floor, his hit man climbed the wall. Due to the old, withered stones and some handy iron hooks let into the brickwork to attach shutters Sebastian encountered no problem with this first part of his mission.

He climbed through an open window and stood in a living room. There was a ragged sofa, its seats and cushions threadbare and bleached, and a cupboard, darkened with age. A roughly built, square table occupied most of the room. It had no cloth, but there was a vase holding a bunch of dry flowers, and a yellow bee-wax candle in a brassen stick. That was about all. The room looked neat, but Sebastian suspected that the main reason for the lack of personal fancy and disarray was the fact that the inhabitants owned nothing to stuff and litter their place with.

Josy and her lover were in the next room, shouting at each other.

"I'm not going to sleep in a bed that has rats under it," a girl's voice yelled.

"_Pipe down, will you?_ Here! I've got your blasted rat," a man's voice replied.

"Don't stick it under my nose, damnit! Get the other one! _The other one!_"

"So get out of my way!"

The door burst open and the fighting, rat-chasing couple bolted into the room. Seeing the butler in her parlor, Josy stopped and stared. She was no older than eighteen. Her face was heavily made up, her hair long and tousled. Her dress was patched in some places. Sebastian remembered having seen her in the pub where she had quarrelled with Tuna Tom.

The man on her heels wore a sailor's outfit and a floppy hat with a wide brim. He was tall and slender, and he moved with a dancer's grace. He had a dead rat in his hand. His nails were sharp, and long, and black. As he recognized the visitor, his jaw opened slightly, revealing sharp teeth.

Sebastian, too, grew wide-eyed, "Charlie? Is that you?"

"Yes, but...er..." Charlie, the self-made _klabautermann_, tipped back his hat and scratched his head. He had soft brown hair that curled on his shoulders. He had made himself to look somewhat older than when Sebastian met him last time. His face was sunburnt, with high cheekbones and a square chin with a cleft in it. An adventurer's face. A ladykiller's face. But his red eyes would always betray him for what he was. In a world of changing shapes and appearances, it was good to have something reliable to recognize your kin by. The colour of the eyes for general identification. And smells, for individuality.

Not wanting to spill his previous names and identities in front of the girl, Sebastian waited until Charlie had finished double-checking his perception and matched it with memory.

"Yes, it's you, cousin," the other demon said two seconds later. "Er...what's your present name?"

" 'Sebastian' will do, I guess."

The crucial matter of name-giving settled, the two demons quickly recovered from the surprise of meeting on this day and in this location. Stranger things had happened.

Josy, however, still kept her suspicious look, as she snuggled against her lover.

"That's the butler I told you about," she said. "Him, who scared Mandy."

"No kidding." Charlie looked Sebastian up and down. "I hate to disappoint you girls and your vivid imagination. But Mandy's thoughts were all her own. Sebastian here has never really gotten the hang of telepathy. Worse yet, he's old school. No peck without a pact."

_It was Charlie, all right._ Sebastian could feel himself move from surprise and relief to a state of exasperation that he typically and exclusively felt when in the presence of his cousin. Considering his present predicament, he was, however, determined to contain his growing impatience. "Charlie? What are you doing here? How did you get here?"

"Got shipwrecked a few seamiles off Cornwall," Charlie said. "Terrible accident."

"With you aboard, I bet it was," Sebastian dead-panned. "How many casualties?"

"An awful lot," Josy said, staging a shiver. "His crew-mates all getting eaten by stingrays and dolphins and such."

Sebastian frowned. "But those animals are not known to eat human beings."

"The more terrible to watch, if they _do_!" Charlie insisted, casting his relative a warning glance. "Needs must, if the devil drives. And you, cousin? What brings you here?"

"My master, Tuna Tom, doesn't approve of anyone but himself courting Miss Josy. I'm supposed to put you off it." Sebastian returned his cousin's cool glance. "He has made it quite clear that he wouldn't mind, if you 'snuffed it' in the process."

"Snuff it? I see. What's 'it'?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I am nothing but a hit man."

"Listen, you two," Josy said, creasing her pretty brow. "I don't know what you're going on about, even though you seem to get along perfectly. But you freak can't just break into a girl's room and claim that you've come to murder her darling, courtesy of a thick-skulled idiot she hoped had sunk along with his bloody bleeding heart - "

The two demons exchanged glances. There was a lot of things you could get across this way, if you'd had centuries of practice.

_Does she ever stop for breath? _Sebastian silently wondered to his cousin.

Charlie sighed, "Josy, love? Why don't you go and see, if you can catch the other rat yourself?"

"But he said - "

"_Josy-cozy_..."

She was suspicious, and worried, and she didn't want to go. But she went nevertheless, pouting. Sebastian remembered that that was Charlie's way with people. Some of them fell for him. Some of them wanted to kill him. Either of them, he had to control.

Charlie was almost never in control.

But he was good at pretending confidence, and because of his general superhuman abilities, his shortcomings were usually only ever noticed by other demons.

"So we're looking for something to snuff. Basic snuffability." Charlie looked around, searching. "Basic snuff-... ah!" He spotted and grabbed the candle stick. He lit the bee-wax candle and snuffed it out in the same breath, then held it out for Sebastian to inspect. "There. Works for you?"

"Did it teach you to keep your hands off another guy's sweet heart?" Sebastian asked.

Charlie raised his hand as if to take an oath. "I'm not interested in people's hearts, whether they be sweet, or sour, or anything. It's the immaterial aspect I'm after."

"That's all right then, I guess," Sebastian said. "I can sell it to my master. Anyway, Charlie, I need your help. Look at this."

Sebastian brushed back his hair to show Charlie the black mark on his brow.

"Oh," Charlie said, which was perfectly within the range of reactions Sebastian had expected.

Then he added something amazing, "Why, that damned bastard!"

"Who?" Sebastian asked, surprised.

Nonchalance came down over Charlie's face like a mask. "What do you mean, 'who'?"

"Charlie? What do you know about that thing?"

Charlie looked to his left and right - anything to avoid Sebastian's glance. "Oh, you mean, because I said 'that damned bastard'? It's just a saying. _That damned bastard_. I, I mean, anyone who put that mark on a demon would have to be. Er. Wouldn't. He?" His voice trailed off, as he watched Sebastian narrow his eyes. Charlie knew that look on his cousin's face. He knew it only too well. There were things about Sebastian that never changed, no matter his name or appearance. One of the more vital traits was that you could always tell when he was starting to lose his temper.

"Er...Sebastian, I, er, need to tell you something." Charlie steered Sebastian toward a chair and made him sit down. Then he seated himself at the other side of the table, careful to keep a distance that would give him at least a small head start. "You see, I know Tuna Tom. We've been on the same ship."

"The one you sank off Cornwall?" Sebastian asked icily.

"You're catching on really fast. Er. We had been on our way for three weeks. It was a dull journey. No coast, no storm, no other ship. One day, Tom finds me on the quarter deck. He pushes a slip of paper under my nose and asks me to read what it says... The letters were of an ancient script I hadn't seen in a long time. The words were Babylonian. I read them. I translated them into English." Charlie eyed Sebastian warily. "They went, 'With my voice I summon you...' "

"The spell he used on me!" Sebastian nearly toppled his chair over. "Are you saying you read it to him? Aloud?"

Charlie made a face that was supposed to show contriteness.

"_You_," Sebastian said, exasperated, "_read it to him._ A demon reads an ancient spell. Aloud. To a human being."

"I...boy, you're not going to like this – I even repeated it for him the better to memorize it."

Sebastian just sat and looked on, his face blank. Every five or so seconds, he blinked in a very controlled, slow way.

"You know how dull it is, being stuck on a ship," Charlie defended himself. "I was bored. I was hoping we could get a little game going."

"You were bored," Sebastian repeated, carefully pronouncing each word. "I'm going to make you suffer, you don't know how much. We didn't part on the best of terms. But maybe, I can yet borrow that shinigami's death scythe, if I promise he gets to watch..."

"Well, we got a game started, all right," Charlie continued, pretending not to hear. "But it was not with Tom. It was with the captain's steward. I found out that he was far more skilled, even experienced at spells, than that poor bugger Tommy. Eventually, the situation was really getting out of hand. So I sank the ship. I thought it would take care of the problem. I was wrong. But I cannot turn back time, can I?"

Sebastian drew a deep breath and blurted out, "You could switch on your brains before you teach something that might destroy you to someone who might enjoy the idea of destroying you!"

"Now you're exaggerating," Charlie said. "By that logic, no human should read ghost stories, since one day they might be haunted themselves or turned into ghosts."

"Most humans nowadays don't believe in ghosts," Sebastian pointed out.

"As I didn't believe a genuine Babylonian spell and artefact to exist in modern times. Aboard a sailing ship on its way to Cardiff," Charlie countered.

"Wait! No one mentioned an artefact! How do you know that there – " Sebastian stopped as he perceived a shadow passing outside the window from the corner of his eye. He turned his head, then looked curiously at his cousin. "Did you see that crow?"

"What crow? Oh, _that _crow!" Instead of following Sebastian to the window, Charlie focussed on a rat that peered around the ajar door.

Sebastian leaned on the sill, looking for the bird. "That's strange. I've never seen a crow slam into a solid wall."

"The world is full of strange things, isn't it?" Charlie tossed the candle stick at the rat, then turned and clapped his hands, just as another bird tried to land on the sill. Using his preternatural speed, Sebastian caught the bird before it collided with the brickstone, and he caught the candle before it hit the rat. Bringing both back to the table, he slipped on to his chair. He put the candle stick on the table and released the bird. "Charlie? What was that about?"

Sourly, Charlie watched the crow flap across the room and leave by the window. "Look, Sebastian, if you think you're the only one with problems..."

"It's Grandmother, isn't it?" Sebastian asked, suddenly seeing the light. "She knows what you've done. Of course she does. She came to London to look for you. She's sending out her messengers. Rats and crows, lending her their ears and eyes. And you are killing them! Have you finally gone crazy?"

"On the contrary. Considering how she is when she gets mad, it's only reasonable to lay low, isn't it?"

"Lay low, so someone else can do the dirty work for you. I," Sebastian said slowly and with emphasis, "am soo going to murder y- "

"You know," Charlie cut in quickly. "The problem with you is that you probably could. And you would, if I ever let you finish that phrase."

He got up and opened the door, calling Josy back in. She came, a fierce look on her face and a broom in her hand.

"All right," Charlie put his arm around his girl's shoulder, caressing her as much as he was preparing to use her as a living shield, in case Sebastian decided to come at him. "I don't suppose you can go to your old master's place on your own, or you'd have done so by now. So I'll go in your stead and confess everything to Grandmother." He heaved a sigh. "I don't like to do this, I really don't. But, no, I'm not crazy, and I know that you're in trouble, and if anyone can remove that spell, it'll be she."

"Thank you, Charlie."

"Screw you, Sebastian. Where do we find you?"

Sebastian described the old counting house.

"I know where that is," Josy said. "But let me understand this, Charlie: This freak pops up out of nowhere, and you get yourself involved in _his_ business?"

"He's family," Charlie said with bravado. "It's my damned duty."

"Screw you, Charlie," Sebastian whispered very, very softly, as Josy rose on tip-toe to kiss Charlie on his mouth. Charlie immediately dropped any other occupation, including the conversation with his cousin. Sebastian sighed. That was the problem with demons. You simply could not get them interested in anything but the game and the prize at hand.

"I'll pass that sigh for plain jealousy," Charlie mumbled, his lips against Josy's skin. "Close the window when you climb out. I wouldn't want Grandmother's messengers flocking on the sill right now."

Snorting, Sebastian retreated. He could hear Josy giggle and a chair crush on the floor.

"The immaterial aspect," he muttered. "Don't make me laugh."

But they were both of demon stock, and he, too, sneered, picturing to himself the look on Tuna Tom's face when he learned how this assignment had been duly fulfilled.

_Basic snuffability._

The things you did to comply.

***End of Chapter 4***

* * *

A/N: A long chapter that was immense fun to write. You can love Charlie or you can want to kill him. He was not in the story, not even in my (pretty vague) draft when I started it. But when he showed up, I had my answer to why it seemed so absolutely important to mention a demon who'd be loosely in touch with Sebastian and who'd taken to the sea in the first chapter. There'll be definitely no more relatives popping up. But this one was necessary. If you keep reading, you'll find out, why :)


	5. Of Lugworms, Crabs and other Creeps

Hi there. Why ever did I ever claim, I'd keep my chapters at a reasonable length? :) Well, you had to wait for this one, so I didn't want to cut it down by half, when it was finished.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, or any other characters featured in or related to "Kuroshitsuji" ("Black Butler"), I don't own "Kuroshitsuji" itself, and I do not make money from this.

* * *

Chapter 5: Of Lugworms, Crabs and other Creeps

Business affairs kept Ciel from conducting a proper search for his butler. When he returned in the late afternoon, he had spread word of Sebastian's disappearance in several strategic junctions. But none of his regular informers had seen or heard anything of importance.

Sebastian's whereabouts remained a mystery.

His duties, however, where seen to by his grandmother. She had placed the image of a hellhound into the back of the servants' minds that would raise its ugly head and snarl at them every time they showed their typical tendencies of chaotic behavior. They were not aware of it. They only knew that it was somehow crucial to act like the professionals they'd never been.

So, Finny helped Ciel out of his coat, while Mey-Rin curtsied before him. In well-set words, she announced that two visitors had arrived some time before the young master. _If the young master agreed to welcome them now, Tanaka would show them in._

As Ciel sat behind his desk, Grandmother came in, carrying a tray with chinaware and a teapot. Next came Tanaka, and with him the visitors. Ciel was astonished to meet a sloppy sailor and a tawdry whore. Grandmother, however, went on distributing the chinaware on the table and, without looking up, said, "About time, Charlie. What tidings do you bring me, young one?"

Ciel opened his mouth, but the sailor took off his hat and, kneading the brim in his fingers, said, "Er. Hello, Grandma."

Surprised, Ciel looked the sailor up and down. He knew that looks were deceiving when it came to demons. But there was no family resemblance at all. Charlie did not even share Sebastian's calculating expression that Ciel had come to regard as the canvas on which the butler's sly smile and polite demeanor was painted time and again.

Charlie appeared to cultivate a flashy image of coolness and confidence that failed him, however, miserably in the presence of the elder demon. And he had good reasons for his apprehension, too, and he recounted them like a schoolboy, standing with his hat in his hands and his girl clinging to his arm in front of Ciel's desk.

Ciel learned how Charlie had been asked by a fellow sailor to teach him the words of a powerful spell. He learned that this spell had been used on Sebastian who was now under that sailor's command and wiping out his rivals at affairs of the heart.

He also learned that Charlie had been the one who had first procured both, the artefact and the spell, by diving for treasures at high sea. Being a demon, Charlie could go deeper and stay longer than any human could ever hope for.

"Did you know that at twohundred feet your ears start to hurt really bad?" Charlie asked. "And that there really _are_ giant squids lurking in the deep? I met one just as I was about to discover the entrance to that treasure cave."

"His name's Ramón," Grandmother said. "You monster. You didn't hurt him, did you?"

"Er..."

"What's your grandfather going to say to that, I wonder? He was devastated when it became necessary to assign a guardian and his pet squid was the only giant creature at hand qualified for the job." Grandmother inhaled sharply. "Your grandfather and I went to such pains to make that damn seal disappear from the face of the earth!"

"So you marked the spot with an X and put the map into Davy Jones' locker," Charlie pointed out defiantly and, speaking aside and quietly, added, "Nice going, Grandma."

Grandmother raised her chin and made a dignified face, "As to the marking, that's the proper way to deal with treasues. As to our chosen means of safekeeping: No one ever goes looking for things in Davy Jones' locker. _No one. Ever._ That boy's a pack rat!"

"Well, I did," Charlie objected. "Go looking for things, I mean. _We did._ Jones and me. One night, after we'd sunk a three-master in a tropical storm. 'Let's see what's new in my locker!' he said. It seemed like a good idea."

"I'm sure it did. Was it also Jones who talked you into running around looking like Errol Flynn in a role of his lifetime?" Grandmother snorted. "If I ever wondered what will be their reason for inventing technicolor - you are!"

"Like who? Invent what?" Charlie asked curiously.

"Patience, young one. Patience. - Well, at least you did your best to get the thing back to the ground of the ocean again. Of course, another good idea would've been to stay and make sure it really went down all the way. Along with any human magic user who had learned of its secret."

"Yes, but there was this storm and - " Charlie brushed away Josy's hand. The barmaid was tugging his sleeve, trying to tell him that the old lady's eyes had started to gleam red.

Darkly amused, Ciel watched desaster build up like stormclouds.

"You thought Mother Nature would fix the problem, so you could go somewhere dry and warm in the meantime. Isn't that so? You foolish brat! Even though we call them 'mortals', humans are a most tenacious species and hard to kill," Grandmother scolded.

Charlie insisted, "Listen, I know that, but you see – "

Josy tugged his sleeve, "Darling? I said, her eyes - "

"Rats, Josy, gimme a break! _Yeah,_ her eyes are red, so are mine, so what?" Furious, Charlie turned to his girl, his demon eyes glowing brightly crimson.

Josy shrieked, spun on her heels and fled.

Charlie cursed and went chasing after her.

"Now look at this," Grandmother said, chuckling. "The boy's head over heels in the L-word."

"How can you tell? Because he's screaming at her to stop behaving like a silly cow?" Ciel asked drily, relating to the yelling contest going on in his hall.

"No. Because she's screaming at him not to come any closer. Which means he didn't simply grab her. What a cutie! It's obvious he doesn't want to upset her any further."

"He screwed up neatly, if you ask me," Ciel said, just as the girl yelled one final order to back off, the demon yelped, and the front door slammed.

"Charlie always does," Grandmother said, stifling a sigh. "In fact, I would appreciate if you accompanied him to the counting house where his cousin is held. Since we are dealing with a magic-user here, you might be at an advantage. At least you cannot be banned, exorcised, or kept in or out of a certain area by something as plain and simple as a five-pointed star."

"Sebastian is my butler, so I'll join the search for him," Ciel said. From the corner of his eye he saw Charlie re-enter the parlour, a sour look on his face and his left hand gingerly touching his cheek. "But couldn't you have warned Sebastian before all of this happened? I understand you can travel through time."

"And there are futures with and futures without Sebastian as you know him," Grandmother replied grimly. "And the same can be said about Charlie, and even though I'm not much of an historian, I feel like there might be a connection."

And for one fraction of a heartbeat, she did not seem so much like a nice granny from a fairytale, but like something far older and blacker. Something that had crept out of a nightmare, collectively dreamed by all of mankind since the early days of dawn, when the cavemen huddled together in fear of the thunderstorm.

Grabbing Charlie by the arm and fleeing from his own parlor, Ciel remembered that it probably was dreams like that, that had first boosted Man's need for protective seals like the one that kept his butler in check.

* * *

Sebastian's work for today was not yet finished. When he reported that he'd successfully made Josy's lover revoke any intentions to lay his hands on other people's sweet hearts, his master was pleased. Sebastian was taken to one of the filthiest and darkest quarters of the harbor and showed the door of an infamous opium den.

"Do you know this place?" Tom asked.

"I have heard of it," Sebastian confirmed. In fact, Lau had talked of it repeatedly. The owner of the place had died under strange circumstances. Lau had wanted to buy the den from the heirs. But by the time Lau had raised the funds, there had already been a new owner. A nobody.

Tuna Tom named him, "It is run by Dave Prescott. We used to call him 'Dreamy Dave'. Him and me had some differences about money and... other stuff. I've been told that the lugworm's in today, addressing some of his jellyfish underlings. I want you to take out this nest of stinking crabs. Make it as painful and bloody as you can. He deserves it."

"Yes, master."

"He's dangerous, even for someone like you, so don't dally."

"Yes, master."

Sebastian entered the opium den. Even more than in the sailor's pub he was glad that worldly drugs did not affect him. The air seemed dense enough to be cut with a knife. His breath tickled in his throat and he felt his sense of smell become dull, as if his sinuses were being filled with cotton wool.

He went down the stairs, manipulated a few guards who asked his name and entered the secluded room where Dreamy Dave conferred with his consorts.

They all looked up when the butler stood in the doorframe and clapped his gloved hands, "Gentlemen! May I have your attention, please? I have been ordered to take out some garbage by my master, the venerable Tuna-Tom."

One of the men left his seat and stepped forward. His face was that of a man in his early forties, but his beard was still dark with no sign of silver or white hair. His head, however, was balding, so he shaved it, proving that he was not a guy to do things by halves. His eyes were dark and piercing as he addressed the unexpected visitor, "Mate, let me assure you that someone like you will have my fullest attention any time. But are you aware that there's half a dozen guns aimed at your head and heart?"

Sebastian smiled demurely, "I am, and I must say it grieves me, sir. I am merely a butler, and I do my master's bidding."

"So, that worthless codfish sent you in to assassin me?"

"No," the butler explained patiently. "He sent me in to take out some rotting marine creatures. _A nest of stinking crabs,_ were his exact words. Along with a lugworm and some jellyfish."

"That's what he said, eh?" Dreamy Dave walked past Sebastian and briefly placed his hand on the butler's shoulder, "Mate, I have no idea whether you're damn stupid, or damn obliging, or simply damned in every way there is. But you may be unemployed by today's sunset, and if you're looking for a new master - "

"Thank you, sir," Sebastian said, smiling and modestly casting down his eyes to conceal their eerie red glow. "But I already have a place to return to, once this is over."

Dreamy Dave was too far up the stairs to heed him. He was followed by his consorts and guards, their firearms ready. As they ascended the stairs they were joined by others. Bolting through the door and firing their guns, they assaulted Tuna Tom and his little gang who loitered on the other side of the street, like a thunderstorm from a blue sky.

Sebastian had remained alone at the bottom of the stairs. A cold draft like the breath of death floated from the open exit and made the light around the demon flicker as he stood and listened to the noise of the fight.

"I have taken them out according to your command, master," Sebastian said, smiling softly. "I do not hurt you, nor do I stand by and look on as you get hurt. I have obeyed you to the very letter, and I've no doubt that you've found it exceedingly painful and bloody. But if you're not satisfied, your servant humbly asks for a proper contract, followed by less ambiguous directions next time."

When the noise stopped, the demon ascended the stairs. The street was littered with dead bodies. The hapless sailors had neither put up much of a fight, nor had they had proper means of defending themselves in the first place. Sebastian looked for and eventually found the corpse of Tuna Tom. The lesson had been taught in a hard way. Several bullets had engraved it into the man's head and body. Sebastian squatted down and started to sift through the dead sailor's pockets.

"Looking for this?" Dreamy Dave stood before the demon. In his hand was the sigil dagger's handle.

"I guess that makes me your new master," Dreamy Dave said conversationally.

"I suggest that you hand it over to me," Sebastian said, getting up. "It does not belong in human hands."

"On the contrary. I think it does. It has been crafted by humans, after all." Dreamy Dave weighted the tool in his hand. "_By my voice, by my sigil, by the name engraved onto your soul do I command you, Samiel._ - Hear my first command. You are forbidden to speak, to raise your voice or otherwise communicate in any language known to man or animal, unless I permit you to. My order will be thus, 'I permit you speak, Samiel!'."

"But you can't just - " Sebastian broke off as he choked on the words. It was not so much painful as simply impossible to get his vocal chords to work. Trying to speak resulted in coherent thought leaking from his consciousness, like blood seeping out of a man who still walked with his leg severly cut: The harder he tried to reach his destination, the quicker his means to get him there failed him.

Dreamy Dave watched him. "_I permit you speak, Samiel._ For now. I made an educated guess as to the name the late Tuna Tom had given you. Tell me, did I guess right?"

Reluctantly, Sebastian affirmed.

Dreamy Dave nodded, "It was I who introduced Tom to the opera and Weber's 'Freischuetz'. He was fascinated by the idea of reaching one's goals by the help of a demon. So it seemed likely that he'd choose that name for the one he enslaved." Dave looked Sebastian up and down. "However, I'd thought it would be Charlie."

"Who are you?" Sebastian asked.

"I was the captain's steward on that accursed journey when Charlie made his discovery. I was the one who realized what treasure had been played into my hands. While everyone was fighting over the gold, I made the demon himself read out the spell to my henchman. Oh, how I wished to get him spellbound! But after the ship sunk, he and Tom and the sigil seemed to be gone for good. I couldn't believe my eyes when you strutted in. That wonderful 'devil-may-care'-attitude. That mark on your brow. That unearthly light in your eyes. I am glad you came. Let the fun begin." Dave waved Sebastian to follow him back into the den. "Come. There are some back-up and flanking orders to give. Then, I'll explain your job to you."

There was silence.

"You will acknowledge my every order by saying, 'Yes, master'."

"Yes, master," Sebastian said reluctantly.

"I can't help the impression that you still think of yourself in terms of your old name, whatever that was. Hear my order: You will not apply that name to yourself again."

Silence.

"By my voice, Samiel, speak!"

The silence persisted. The demon's lips were pressed together firmly. There was no trace of his usual taunting smile left. His eyes were gleaming brightly, showing nothing but hatred and ferocity.

"By my mark on your brow, Samiel, speak!"

No response. The demon had started to shiver. Not very much, it was barely perceptible. But he closed his eyes, and that gesture did not pass his new master by.

"By the name that is engraved upon your soul - "

"Please," the demon wrenched out.

"Speak, Samiel!"

Instead of speaking, the demon snarled and lashed out, trying to get at the human faster than the spell would get to him. He was quick, but it wasn't enough. Dave sidestepped and the demon landed on all fours in front of him, curling up like some wounded animal.

Dreamy Dave looked down at him. "I can order you to forget your former name altogether. What do you say to that? Seeing you like this, I think it would be a favor to you."

_I don't feel at all like I did these last two years, _Sebastian thought desperately. _If this is a dream, I want to wake up._

Aloud, he said, "No..."

"Then you will not apply that name to yourself ever again. Ackknowledge!"

"Yes, master," the demon said, gritting his teeth.

"Get up and follow me."

The demon followed. He tried hard not to think of himself as Sebastian, while at the same time being mortally afraid of what would happen to him if he forgot.

* * *

Ciel and Charlie were traveling in a carriage. Tanaka was on the coachman's seat, since Charlie had downright refused to do a servant's job.

Ciel had been crossed at first, but before long he decided to count himself lucky. The demon would probably have steered them straight into the first brick wall available.

For some time, Ciel watched as Charlie sat with his chin in his hand, sighing, lost in worry and not even trying to conceal it. A piece of blue ribbon in the demon's fingers told Ciel that the run-away barmaid was at the bottom of the misery and drama.

_What a fuss about a girl!_

Feeling unable to stand but another sigh, Ciel said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Charlie said listlessly.

"You refer to Sebastian as your 'cousin'. Is that in the same way humans use that term?"

"No. With demons, it's more about age and intentions. Sebastian and I, we're roughly the same in both respects. I say 'roughly', because there's a distinct difference in our hunting styles. If it wasn't for that, we might even address each other as 'brothers'."

"What difference?" Ciel asked.

Charlie smiled wrily, "I'm not sure I should tell you."

"Come on. I'm Sebastian's contractee, after all."

"So you are. Because he makes pacts with his victims. He sticks to them, follows them down the trail, to the very end." For the first time, Ciel saw the same calculating, callous look he so resented in his butler in Charlie's smile. There was a family resemblance after all. Ciel wondered how he had missed it, as Charlie continued to explain, "I don't make contracts with mortals. I simply touch their lives for a very short time. A boy's best friend, a girl's first love. Our crossing of paths leaves marks that no one will ever see. But sometimes, in their dying hour, those people will ask themselves, 'I wonder what became of Charlie? We used to be so close. I wish he were here with me now.'"

"Speak of the devil," Ciel said softly, "and he will hear you."

Charlie nodded, "And that's how I find them. And that's how they find out..."

"I see," Ciel said. "You're even more sinister than Sebastian."

"Thanks, cubby. But that depends, acutally. For instance, when we first met you - "

"We? You were there, too?"

Charlie wrapped the blue ribbon around his finger and watched it come off again. "Sure thing. We did a lot together, in those days."

"Then why did Sebastian come to me? Why not you?" Ciel asked.

"Because Sebastian made it clear that he wanted you."

"He wanted me?"

"Or so he said." Charlie shrugged. The ribbon came off again.

"But _why_?"

"We don't question each other's decisions. We're demons. That means we can be awfully focussed on one thing, and one thing only. He said he wanted you, so I told him to go ahead. Don't even think he listened. Or cared. _He wanted you._ At that moment, nothing else counted." Charlie let go of the ribbon and leaned closer, reaching out his clawed hand across the aisle separating their seats. Instinctively, Ciel drew back.

Charlie shook his head, clearly impatient, "Don't move, cubby. You'll scare the crow."

"What?" Ciel asked, but at the same time he realized that a crow had landed on the backrest beside his head.

"Don't move," Charlie repeated and made the crow climb on to his fist. He stared the bird in the beaked face and black marble eyes, then let it fly. "That was a message from Grandma. There's been a shooting, five men dead. Have Tanaka turn the next left."

"Why? Has it something to do with Sebastian?"

"Obviously, it would have to," Charlie said. "As I said: We're a single-minded brood. And right now, neither Grandma nor I are not interested in anything else."

"Anything else, except Josy," Ciel muttered. "Are you really heartbroken or are you just 'touching her life', according to your personal style of hunting down your souls?"

"A minor variation, maybe." Charlie sighed, crumpling the blue ribbon between his fingers. "I could stick to her even without a contract, you know. But she doesn't want to see me anymore."

Ciel wondered, if Sebastian had ever felt just by half as exasperated in his cousin's presence.

* * *

Charlie's directions did not take them to the scene of the shooting, but to a deserted pier where three men were busy disposing of the victims' bodies. They were not cheered to get company, and they left their canvas-wrapped clients at the end of the pier as they approached the carriage.

When Charlie announced that he would talk to them, his smile once more resembled that of Ciel's butler when Sebastian had made up his mind to be absolutely compliant and helpful, however in a very individual way.

He didn't need many words.

He just said, "Bugger off", not even in an unfriendly tone of voice, and the men ran off screaming. Of course, Ciel would never know what they had seen in Charlie's face.

Charlie used his nails to rip open the first canvas bag and studied the pale face of the dead man within.

"That's Tuna Tom," he said. "Poor bugger. I don't think he ever fully understood what he'd bargained for."

"What was the bargain?" Ciel asked, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. "Charlie, who killed this man?"

"What makes you think I know?"

"There were three people involved in the scheme. You, Tuna Tom and the captain's steward. You and Tom are accounted for. But what became of the third? And what kind of man was he?"

"His name is Dreamy Dave," Charlie said. "He was a criminal, or at least planning to become one. He and Tuna Tom talked about taking over the London opium trade. But that cake, as we all know, has been distributed. No more piece of it left to ask for without some means to enforce your claim. At first, Tom was meant to do the dirty work. Later, obviously, Dave wanted to make me his hit man. Tom was simple-minded enough to feel cheated. He insisted on their agreements, instead of counting his blessings and backing off silently. By the time the ship started to sink, we were on a merry-go-round of plotting and thwarting each other's assassination."

"Do you think Tom came here to renew their partnership?" Ciel asked. "Maybe he thought that if he brought a demon they could just go on from where they had broken off."

"Possible. But I'd rather guess that Tom wanted to get rid of Dave. Take over from him. Tom was not the most brightest of fellows. You told him about spices, he'd consider himself a great cook. Know what I mean?"

"So it's safe to assume that Sebastian is now with Dave and controlled by him," Ciel said.

"If he were free, you'd know be now," Charlie pointed out.

"Right. So we can assume that Dave has the demon hit man he wanted. To secure his stand in business."

"Sounds likely," Charlie assented, but Ciel simply talked on, "_So_, what I'll do is contact one or two people I happen to know. We'll offer Dave an opportunity he can't ignore. His hit man will be put in a position to do away with some of the most influential opium dealers of London."

"By the name of...? "

"Take your pick," Ciel said. "Because it's going to be you and me."

+++End of Chapter 5+++

A/N: Well, that was a long chapter. But I really wanted some informations to be given and the story to enter the next level, so I hope, you enjoyed nevertheless.


	6. Blind Man's Buff

Hello. Thanks for reviewing and listing this as a "favorite story". I've worked quite hard to be able and give you this new chapter tonight. It's pretty late now, so let's get started. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, or any other characters featured in or related to "Kuroshitsuji" ("Black Butler"), I don't own "Kuroshitsuji" itself, and I do not make money from this.

* * *

Chapter 6: Blind Man's Buff

On the following days, Sebastian found himself caught in an endless nightmare.

His new master was trying to elbow his way into the London underground opium trade. He had lots of opponents, lots of enemies, rivals, thieves, deceitful agents, disloyal captains and two or three honest, but insolvent debtors in England, India and China to deal with.

And one demon at his disposal who could take care of the problem.

For that purpose Dreamy Dave had re-invoked the spell of the sigil to an extent that made it almost impossible for Sebastian to even think a thought of his own. 'Samiel' was sent out to intimidate, and hunt down, and kill. The orders were expertly given, specifying everything that needed be done, almost to the single movement. They also pointed out exactly what the demon was not supposed to do.

Talking, of course, being top of the list.

When Samiel was not on his way to wipe out the ambitioned gangsterlord's opponents, he was kept in a ritual circle. Every time he lay down within the lines, the demon felt his strength seep out of him. He did not struggle anymore, after his master had ordered him to forget Earl Ciel Phantomhives' name. It had very nearly driven him over the edge. Pleased by the success of his test, Dreamy Dave had subsequently threatened to order him to forget all about his former existence.

_"You know what will happen then. Try not to think of your own name, and you will repeat it incessantly to yourself. That's a basic automatism, unless you're a master at Zen or something. And there's always some word I can order you to ban from your mind. And another. And you won't be able to obey. The mark on your brow will probably squish your brains out."_

_"You want me in my right mind. Therefore you won't give that order," Samiel had reasoned, still a little out of breath and shaken from his earlier ordeal._

_"Not now," his master had agreed. "But don't forget that I just might."_

Samiel tried to prepare himself for the worst case. He wasn't a Zen master, but he was capable of focussing and controlling his mind at quite expert levels, nevertheless. He imagined packing all his memories into a bundle. This bundle, he handed to the part of him that had once been a butler named Sebastian Michaelis. And Sebastian Michaelis descended into a dark place, deep inside, and there he made himself as small as possible, cradling his memories and holding out, as the demon outside did what a demon did best. He was efficient, but unpredictable. A great tool, but dangerous to handle. He bowed as he accepted his orders. He tried to bend them as soon as his master had turned his back on him. He interpreted. He played games. He was punished by his master and chastised by the seal and flung into the confinement of the ban circle.

After his master caught him in the act of trying to make a rat cross the line and thereby disrupt the spell that bound him, he spent his prison time ironed to the floor. His tailsuit became ragged, his hair unkempt.

And sometimes, only sometimes, he would cringe and silently beg his former master to stop calling him by a name he desperately tried to keep out of this mess.

* * *

It had taken Ciel some days to pull the right strings and spread the word, but finally the fake meeting of opium lords had been arranged. Of course, Lau had proven a valuable ally and the meeting was set to take place in one of his opium dens. By the time Ciel's coach halted in front of the entrance, London's underworld was buzzing with the news that Lau was about to conclude a profitable deal with two opium lords from a far away world. (The wording had been Charlie's idea, and he was quite proud when it caught on and was spread as a crucial part of the information. Not from India. Not from China. They came _from a far away world_.)

Ciel had not really bothered to don a disguise. A black suit and dark glasses would have to do for the short walk from the coach to the room Lau had assigned for the task. Charlie had wanted to wear his sailor's outfit, but Grandmother had talked him into wearing a more fashionable suit.

Now, clad in black, his hair slicked back and his floppy hat replaced by something Grandmother called "a fedora", he no longer looked flashy – he looked classy. To Ciel, it seemed that this demon made people turn their heads and accept his natural authority, whatever he chose to wear. Gritting his teeth, the young earl intended to remind at least Lau of who was the true mastermind behind this meeting.

"That's not what we ageed on," Ciel told Lau, when they entered the conference chamber and found four men already seated at the round table. "We were supposed to be alone. Who are those people?"

"Well, you do not really expect me to reveal their names, do you?" Lau asked.

Ciel looked at the men in dark suits. Some of them wore sunglasses even in this underground room. All of them were probably armed. Which, of course, would avail to nothing, but so far that bitter truth was only known to Ciel and Charlie.

"What are they doing here?" Ciel asked, exasperated. "This is dangerous business!"

"So you said, when you first contacted me to arrange this meeting," Lau said. "Since then there have been casualties among our people. Agents, dealers, dead and gone. A dozen of them. I am curious to learn what's going on. So are my business partners. They sent their agents to find out. Why didn't you bring your butler along? Who is this gentleman inspecting the room?"

"He's – my bodyguard," Ciel said, staring at the table. "This might not be a good idea, either."

"What do you mean?"

"All that silverware, the forks and knieves. Somebody might get hurt."

"Do you want me to have my people lay out chop sticks?" Lau asked hopefully.

"No, thank you. In fact, I believe chop sticks would make it even worse."

"That's just because you English don't know how to use them."

"Believe me, _he_ does," Ciel mumbled to himself. "Are there no windows?"

"We are two storeys below street level."

Something vexed Ciel about that, and he thought about the problem as he moved half a step forward to let someone pass who pushed into the room. _Great. One more piece of bait entering the mouse trap._ He didn't stop to think why the presence felt familiar. He only snapped to red alert when he heard Lau say, "Ah, welcome, Mister Sebastian. My, you look - "

"No!" Ciel shouted, just as the door slammed shut.

The candles went out without so much as a flicker to warn the assembled humans. Pitch black darkness engulfed the opium agents and Ciel who could just catch the imagine of his butler standing with his back to him, facing the other demon in the room. He took in the information that Sebastian's hair looked tousled and his tailcoat was fringed. And that he had a sword in his hand. All that in the fraction of a second, before the light was gone.

After that, it was just shocked silence on part of the agents, a feeling of panic creeping up Ciel's back - and all senses reduced to hearing only.

They heard Charlie. The demon cleared his throat and clapped his hands. "Alright. I want everybody alive and mortal to get under their chairs and cover their pitifully fragile skulls with something very, very solid. Er. Is that possible? How quick can you do that?"

"Under the table! Everyone!" Ciel shouted.

Chairs moved, feet shuffled, clothes rustled. The assembled agents were used to emergencies and trained to keep a clear head. Otherwise, they'd probably started firing their guns when the lights went out, killing each other before Sebastian could get at them.

Ciel realized that he was in trouble. He could not take cover, because when he'd last spotted Sebastian, the demon had been between him and the furniture. He could not leave by the door, because he'd lose precious time trying to work the latch that Sebastian had in all probability blocked.

Sensing movement, he tried to duck and get out of way. He gasped when an arm slipped around his chest from behind.

"Relax," Charlie said, as he swept Ciel off his feet. Something thin and deadly swished past, missing the boy's throat by less than an inch. Charlie set off, dragging Ciel along effortlessly. Ciel cried out as he performed what to his inner ear felt like series of backflips, interspersed with flic flacs. Next thing he knew, Charlie's arm was gone and he knelt on a solid surface. The table.

Metal objects clattered, zinged and hit home with dull, thudding noises.

"Running out of silverware," Charlie murmured in the dark before Ciel. "Oh well, it's no use against a sword, anyway. Cubby? This would be a good moment to confront him."

"Pearl of wisdom! I can't see a thing!" Ciel shouted.

"Oh. Right." Ciel felt lifted again and swirled around – full circle, semi-circle, he had no idea and no way of telling. His dangling feet swept a lot of clinking, rattling stuff from the table that crashed and broke somewhere below. Something moved in front of him, moved with a cat's grace and confidence through the ink blackness. And halted, just as his feet regained solid ground.

This was so different from how Ciel had planned this meeting to go. He wasn't supposed to squint in the dark, blind as a mole. He wasn't supposed to feel so threatened and stupid and vulnerable.

Sebastian wasn't supposed to be so silent and observant and generally unreadable.

Taking his chances, Ciel ripped off his eye patch. "Do you recognize the mark?" he asked into the dark. "I am Ciel Phantomhive. We have a contract, you and I! Do you remember your oath?"

Somehow, Ciel could tell that he was being stared at, and that the creature in front of him did not breathe as it lurked and waited for him to go on. He was glad for Charlie's hands on his shoulders. It was reassuring, even though the demon's strong claws could do with a manicure.

"You took a vow you'd never _ever_ lie to me," he all but screamed. "You promised time and again you'd be my butler and stay by my side to the very end. Is that not so? I named you! I am your master, Sebastian Michaelis! Answer me!"

Behind him, Charlie gasped. It was a sharp, surprised sound, and it was accompanied by a sudden push. Ciel landed on his knees and felt and heard Charlie jump over his crouched form.

Hissing and grappling noises.

More damage to the furniture.

Damage to somebody who yelped in pain.

Then, silence.

Then the lights came on again.

The opium agents got up one by one, looking around, looking at the mess of broken dishes and glasses, crashed chairs and pieces of cutlery stuck in the walls.

"What was that about?" one of them asked, his sunglasses askew.

"That's what I'd like to know, too." Ciel readjusted his eye patch and talked to Lau who appeared from under the table, his hands full of silverware.

"Well," Lau said. "It grieves me to say so, but it sure looked like your butler was out to kill you."

"But how?" Ciel said. "How could Sebastian dare stand up against me like that? We have a contract."

"It seemed he wasn't fond of being reminded of his duties to you," Lau said harmlessly.

"There are no obligations right now, if you ask me." Charlie was suddenly crouching beside Ciel. "Looks like he got a new name. He's not Sebastian. We should've thought of that possibility before."

"You mean he's lost to us?" Ciel asked.

"I don't know. He certainly was in trouble when you reasserted your claim on his obedience. To have two names and two masters to obey - that's one of the meanest and most excruciating things one can do to someone of my - of our dedication." Charlie stopped and grimaced. "That is, of course, apart from corkscrewing a blade into you."

Ciel only now noticed the thin sword that was stuck in the demon's sternum, the blade protruding from his back. Frustrated, Charlie shook the hilt, "Could someone please lend me a hand? This thing seems stuck."

Lau took the hilt and, mustering some effort, pulled the sword out. Something crackled in Charlie's chest as the blade came free. Blood started to trickle from the corners of the demon's mouth. "That was my ribs. But thank you anyway."

"My pleasure. Got to tell me the trick behind this one day," Lau said and crawled off, looking for more cutlery to retrieve.

Charlie got up and helped Ciel to his feet, "Sebastian left. I don't really see, why, but - "

"I think, I can explain," Ciel said. "His order was to kill two certain opium lords who were expected to confer with Lau in this place. You are no opium lord, and nor am I. And those other guys are merely agents, sent here by their bosses. So he had no business here."

"That sounds likely. You'd make a clever demon."

Ciel passed that remark. "Do you have a means of tracking him now?"

Charlie sniffed. "Sorry. Nothing but my own blood and opium smog."

Ciel tried to hide his disappointment. "I see. What's next?"

Charlie actually looked worried.

"I'd better get you home, and fast, puppy," he said.

"I'm not a puppy!"

"Right," Charlie said, sighing. "Because little dogs have teeth to defend themselves."

* * *

Samiel returned to the house the docks where his master kept him in a cellar under the floor of his own quarters. It was a dark, square room that got flooded on a regular basis when the river was high. Dreamy Dave obviously didn't consider that an impediment. He had learned by watching Charlie that demons could not drown, so the occasional one day or two under water would affect his plans rather than his servant. The metal clamps he used to shackle his prisoner would take a long time corroding, and he had carefully carved and etched the pentagram that Samiel had to rest on into the stone floor.

When the demon returned from today's mission, Dreamy Dave listened to his report. He knew immediately that he was not being told everything.

"You say, you killed nobody," he repeated.

"No, master."

"Because they were no opium lords."

"Yes, master."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, master."

"So what were they?"

And that was the catch. Because the demon did not say, "I don't know, master."

He simply said nothing.

"Samiel, I order you to speak. Who were they?"

"A demon and his – I don't know, master."

"A demon? Is he or has he been known by the name of 'Charlie'?"

"Yes, master," Samiel said, sounding vexed.

"This isn't a game of trivia! The name of the person in his company. Speak, Samiel!"

"I can't," the demon said, not entirely without glee. "It's a name I have forgotten due to your command."

"Earl Ciel Phantomhive? No wonder you gratefully clutched at any opportunity to leave without hurting him. Samiel, I order you to lie down and fasten your chains on your ankles and wrists and neck. Securely, so that you would not be able to get free, even if my existence, which you are commanded to protect, depended on it."

Samiel obeyed, shackling first his feet then his left wrist and his neck. His right hand, he put into the clamp and closed it with the help of an attached chain and coil spring. Helpless now. There was nothing left to do but watch the ceiling and wait. It could take his master hours to return.

This time, it only took about half an hour.

Dreamy Dave produced a key and unlocked the shackle on Samiel's right hand. When the demon had gotten to his feet, looking damp and freezing and miserable, he was presented with a sword. The blade was long and slightly curved. Samiel raised it and watched the light reflect from the stainless steel.

"I cannot rely on you as long as your pact with that kid is operative," his master told him. "You know where Earl Phantomhive resides. Go there tonight, one hour after sunset. Make sure the servants don't notice you." Dreamy Dave pointed at the weapon. "Kill Earl Ciel Phantomhive by cutting off his head with this sword. One, clean cut. There's a spell on the blade that should take care of the soul-for-service part. Don't spare Charlie, if the opportunity to kill him presents itself. You want to say something? Speak, Samiel."

"But, master, wouldn't you want another of us to control?"

"And deal with two of you plotting against me at the same time? No way. Kill Charlie, if you have the chance. Kill him, no matter what name or form he might use at present."

Dreamy Dave had been certain that this order would elicit some response.

He was surprised to see a dark, somewhat exasperated smile spread on his servant's pale face and hear his whispered affirmation, "It shall be my pleasure, master."

* * *

A couple of hours later, Samiel was prowling the grounds he had once been in charge of maintaining. It was late and the garden was a maze of shadows. The demon moved from tree to tree, careful to stay out of the pools of silvery moonlight. Strange feelings stirred in his chest, they tried to take on the form of thoughts. There was a name he'd struggled to push away. There were memories fluttering like butterflies in a paper lantern, trying to escape. Samiel forced himself to keep his mind on the job as he stopped behind one of the fanciful statues of fawns and nymphs. He was lucky: There was a light in the study of his former master, a room that was conveniently located at ground level. This job would take no longer than one, maybe two minutes.

Starting forward, Samiel almost tripped over something that felt soft and lenient, as it curled around his legs. It moved and purred and rubbed against his shins, happy to have him back. Samiel looked at the cat at his feet and felt a strange excitement well up in his chest. But it wasn't the black cat's beauty and grace that caused his heart to miss a metaphorical beat.

He gasped because he was startled into recalling her name which he had buried along with the other memories of his life at Phantomhive Manor. Scared of what it might release, he wanted to snatch this particular butterfly and stuff it back. But it had already soared high and pierced the veil of oblivion he had draped so carefully over his memories to protect his mind.

"Giulietta," whispered Samiel and braved the sharp pain he was dealt for having disobeyed the command of silence. He went to his knees and cradled the cat to his chest, holding on for sheer sanity as the butterflies inside the imaginary paper lantern went wild. There were faces and voices. Dreams of an existence as a butler. Recollections of acting a malevolent demon and almost killing the one he had made a pact with – the victim, the oath, the mark, and a haughty, stubborn, lost boy calling and calling ... for a butler, for a demon, for – _No! _Samiel gasped from the renewed, agonizing onslaught of confusion. _Not the names_, he told himself,_ for the love of hell, stop yourself, you must not remember their names, must not remember _his _name or _your _name, you'll go crazy._

Giulietta had expected to be served some tasty treat, a piece of sausage or a small bowl of milk. She did not approve of the way things were evolving. Moving energetically, she freed herself from the suffocating embrace and strutted towards the house, her tail held high. Samiel watched her go. He had got a grip on himself again and stood, a tall, erect, black shadow among shadows, his sword trailing and his crimson eyes staring at the light in the window ahead. He felt confident again. He felt in control again.

He only realized he had bitten through his lip, when he tasted the blood.

+++End of chapter 6+++


	7. Burning the Bridges

Hi there. Thank you for responding to my story. I'm so happy you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, or any other characters featured in or related to "Kuroshitsuji" ("Black Butler"), I don't own "Kuroshitsuji" itself, and I do not make money from this.

* * *

Chapter 7: Burning the Bridges

It looked like a perfect, comfortable evening. Grandmother was seated in an armchair by the fireside, reading a newspaper. Ciel was at his desk, working. There was tea steaming on the table and the fire's golden light and warmth filling the room. The window was open, admitting a soft breeze that stirred the curtains. An early moth took its chances with the candles on Ciel's desk. But there was tension in the air and sometimes Ciel gave a little noise of triumph or disapproval.

He sat in front of a map of London, a quill in his hand. Sebastian had been spotted in several places during those past few days, and Ciel was trying to detect a pattern. Pinpoint the geographical center of his run-away butler's activities, if possible. Black ink lines and circles blotched the paper. Again, Ciel grunted and dipped his quill into the ink: Anyone able to make out a pattern in _that_ had to be lunatic or drunk.

He started when something touched his leg. It was a cat. A cat, black as midnight or a murderer's soul. It jumped onto the table and, tail sticking up high in the air, marched across the map. Gasping, Ciel flinched away from the desk.

"Little one? I didn't know you kept a cat." Grandmother looked up from her ‚Times', then folded the paper and came over.

"That's the cat Sebastian was so fond of lately." Ciel said. "Well, _one _of the strays he was fond of, anyway. He wanted to keep her as a pet."

"I can see why," Grandmother said. "She's a beauty."

Ciel moaned and face-palmed as the old demon picked up the cat and started cuddling it to her bosom and rubbing her nose against the beast's fur. "You're a beauty, aren't you? Yes, a woozy-coozy-cuddly beauty and sooo soft, yes, love, so – _little one!_"

Ciel jumped. "What? What is it?"

"Here! Do you smell that?" The black cat was propped under his nose, her furry back connecting with his face. His bronchial tubes constricted, his allergy and over-all dislike kicked in with a vengeance, "_Blaarrrgh!_ Take it away!"

"That cat smells of Sebastian!" Grandmother stuck out the tip of her tongue and touched it to the cat's fur, just behind the feline's ear. "Tastes like his blood, too."

Ciel interrupted his crazed wiping of imaginary cat hairs off his mouth and nose and face, "Oh, come on! How would _you_ know?"

She looked genuinely puzzled, "How would I _not_ know? I'm his grandmother."

"Oh. Right." Ciel rolled his eyes. "Let me guess: Where you come from, there are no handkerchiefs to bandage your young ones' scraped knees?"

"Scraped knees are not really an issue and yes, worldly cloth will combust instantly," Grandmother assented. "Actually, there are not many useful things you can bring over and maintain in a working condition. Have you ever put a blu-ray-disc into a microwave oven and cranked up the frequency?" She saw the look on Ciel's face and continued in a more matter-of-fact tone of voice, "Anyway. There's Sebastian's blood on that cat."

"Then, maybe, we should set it free and see where it goes," Ciel suggested hopefully.

"No. We should go and find you a safe place," Grandmother said. Carrying the cat on her left arm, she used her free hand to shove Ciel into the hallway. "Come, little one. Quick. Stay close to me."

"What's going on? Am I in danger?" But yes, he was. Ciel could feel it even as he asked. He had sensed it before in Lau's opium den, and he could sense it now, in his very home: The cold, unfeeling stare of crimson eyes. Without warning, Ciel turned around and saw – Charlie.

"He's on the prowl," the demon said, looking dead serious in spite of his motley sailor's outfit. "Get the puppy out of here."

"I'm not a - " Ciel began, his temper flaring up.

"Hush, little one!" Grandmother, too, seemed uncharacteristically concerned as she made Ciel hasten down the corridor. Her stride was brisk and she scanned the shadows incessantly, red eyes glittering. Ciel felt panic rise in his chest. He tried to penetrate the darkness, but he couldn't see or hear a thing except for his own shuffling footsteps. And yet it was there – a predator lurking in the night who would drop his invisibility for one, brief instant only: the instant of the kill.

They reached the entrance hall, and here at last the high windows let in enough light for Ciel's human eyesight to orient himself. The moon was high in the sky, giving the marble staircase a bluish tint. The large paintings on the stairhead, displaying Ciel's ancestry, were big square pools of blackness and motionless shapes.

Ciel squinted. On a subconscious level he could tell that something was just not right. Silently, he started to count: three paintings to the left and three – no, four to the right. _Wait a minute? Four? _

"Grandma- !" Before Ciel could get out his cry, the surplus shadow moved. The moonlight was reflected on a long, shining blade, as Sebastian leaped from the rail.

And was tackled in midair by Charlie who launched himself from the other side of the balcony. Sebastian was thrown off course and slammed against the stone rail of the staircase. The impact would have been enough to knock a man out and probably break his back. The former butler only gave a snarl and started to scramble up the stairs. He straightened up as he ran and eventually, he raced on the narrow rail, taking the long way around the inverted 'U'-shape of the balustrade. Pushing off with hands and feet like some grotesque four-legged animal, Charlie leaped on to the handrail on the other side of the stairs in order to block Sebastian's way.

"Sebastian! Stop it!" yelled Ciel. "It's me. Ciel!"

The ragged demon's eyes widened. He faltered in his step and was nearly tackled by Charlie. Sebastian dodged and started to run up the wall. Charlie landed on all fours, whirled and set off again.

"Stop reminding him of your name," Grandmother said. "It seems to cause him trouble which, in turn, doesn't make things easier for us."

Ciel merely nodded. He, too, gave up on the idea of bringing Sebastian around just by reminding him of his duties.

Meanwhile, Sebastian had reached the ceiling. Using the momentum of his run, he leaped and landed in the big crystal luster. Charlie followed hot on his heels. Crystals clinked, the heavy chains creaked. The two demons hung on, catching their balance. And then, they engaged in combat that defied gravity as well as any concept of human agility. Pushing off walls, spinning, kicking, leaping and somersaulting at dizzying speed, they looked like two crazed trapeze artists rehearsing on invisible equipment and getting all worked up about it.

"Don't you want to interfere?" Ciel asked Grandmother who watched the fight, smiling a smile that radiated delight and malevolence at equal parts.

"Me? Oh no. I'm too old for this kind of action." As if to demonstrate her inaptitude, she stroked the cat on her arm and ruffled its fur with her nose.

Ciel looked up to where Sebastian was trying to get past Charlie and down to ground level, while Charlie did his best to keep him on the balcony or the top landing. They were equally nimble, but Ciel realized that a balance of skill was not the only reason why this contest had turned into a tight match. They definitely didn't battle for the first time. In fact, they seemed to know each other's style to an extent where anticipation bordered on actual mind reading.

"They seem to be dancing rather than duelling," Ciel wondered quietly.

"Why, they spent an eternity growing up together," Grandmother said. "Fighting over treats, toys, favorite cushions..."

"Souls, too?"

"Not souls. Never fighting over souls," Grandmother said, running her fingers through the black cat's fur. "I've always expected it to happen one day. But so far, they obviously never targeted the same victim."

Ciel said nothing. Blood had started to trickle down from the height, and the young Earl watched it, lost in thought. Then, what he saw registered, and he tilted his head back: Sebastian perched on the chandelier, his sword bloodied. In his eyes was the expression of a hawk, watching his prey and deciding whether he should soar and power dive yet again to bring it down. With his knees and left hand Charlie held on to a brass arm of the luster and touched the laceration in his thigh. When he raised his hand, it was dripping blood. He showed the palm to his cousin. "Are you nuts?" His voice shook.

Sebastian continued stalking him. Charlie's blood continued flowing. The wound seemed to hurt a great deal more and heal at a considerably slower rate than it was supposed to.

"Is that also something that'll happen normally?" Ciel asked, trying to keep his voice level. "Sebastian cutting his cousin into strips?"

"Not that I've seen before, no," Grandmother said. "It's the sword, I guess."

Charlie let go of his hold and dropped to the stairhead, wincing as he landed. Sebastian leaped and landed safely on the rail.

"Aren't you going to do something now?" Ciel urged.

Grandmother watched with more than just a hint of malice. There was something in her face that reminded Ciel of Sebastian when the demon had taken control of Grell Sutcliffe's death scythe and realized that the shinigami's fate was entirely in his hands. And that it was going to be a very messy fate, indeed.

"Good gracious, why are you people so obsessed with blood and violence?" Ciel screamed. "And cats! I hate cats! _Gaaah!_"

Next, several things happened almost at the same time.

Ciel grabbed Giulietta, wrenching her rather crudely from Grandmother's arm. The cat gave a loud, plaintive meow of protest. Sebastian turned, and that was all the distraction Charlie needed to whack him over the head, using all of his strength and one of the large paintings he quickly snatched off the wall.

Ciel flinched, making a little "_urgh_!"-noise. Even though the noble knight in the picture had died long before the current Earl Phantomhive's birth, it wasn't easy for his descendant to see him being used as a cudgel.

The frame splintered, the canvas tore with a gross, ripping sound. Sebastian was thrown off balance and staggered backwards. Charlie smote him again, this time using the wooden remnants of the frame, and Sebastian toppled over the rail. He managed to turn himself around in free fall, landed on all fours and rolled. His hand still clutched the sword.

Uncertain of what to expect, Ciel retreated a step towards the wall. Grandmother, however, finally chose to get involved. Before Sebastian could get back to his feet, the old demon was beside him. Turning him over and slipping her left arm around his neck, she had him immobilized in less than a second. With her other hand she squeezed his wrist, until he dropped the sword. She gave the weapon a push that sent it sliding across the floor. Charlie set his foot on the blade as it slithered past and picked it up.

Sebastian closed his eyes, trying to control his breath and the pain. He was still supposed to use his master's sword on Ciel and his cousin, and the seal was frying him alive for surrendering it without a fight. But he didn't give a damn now. He might have forgotten his young master and his own name. But he still remembered his Grandmother who had been and was and always would be there, lending support. Wrapping his arms around her neck, he clung to the older demon like a sailor seeking hold at the mast of a rolling ship.

Grandmother brushed away the tousled black hair and studied the sigil. "It will hurt to remove this," she said, placing her hand on his brow. "But I'm afraid there'll be casualties, if I have to instruct this incompetent bunch of Phantomhive servants but two days longer. Do you hear me, young one? Whatever source of inner strength you tap to keep your patience with them – let it serve you now."

"I look forward to meeting the conjurer who did this to him," Ciel said, leaning on his knees as he bent forward to get a better look. "I'll have Seb- him show us to his hideout first thing after you've finished."

"Oh," Grandmother said. "I'm sorry, little one. But that's a nasty spell, and once I remove it, the young one won't go anywhere anytime soon."

"Then don't do it," Ciel said quickly.

All three demons looked up. Sebastian blinked.

"I want that conjurer, I want Dreamy Dave," Ciel said firmly. "And Seb- he is going to lead me to him."

"Have you gone crazy?" Charlie asked.

"Not yet. But without a butler to take care of things, I just might." Ciel turned to Grandmother. "I assume that Seb- he is here under the order to kill me. I understand that to disobey will cause him pain. But I need to talk to him. Can you do something about that?"

She thought about it, then shook her head, "You cannot half counter a spell. It's all or nothing."

"With spells yes, but, _um_..." Charlie rummaged in his pocket and held out his hand. "How about that?"

Grandmother looked at the objects on his palm and gave him a severe look, "Don't tell me you find those in Davy Jones' locker!"

"No. I think they grow on trees," Charlie said. "Take the blue one. They taste better than the green fellows."

"What is it?" Ciel leaned closer. "A poison dart frog?"

Grandmother withdrew her hand, "_A temptation to taste of, a delight to behold, but if mortals should touch it, their knells will have tolled_," she recited. "That's a popular nursery rhyme. A true one, too."

"Let me get that straight," Ciel pinched the bridge of his nose, his exasperation slowly transcending into curious despair. "You're going to feed him a dead poison dart frog?"

"I'd have done so much earlier, had I but known that Charlie carries them around in his pocket," Grandmother said. "There's nothing like a poison dart frog to relieve a headache. I didn't know you suffered from migraine, young one?"

"You've obviously not lived with a human in a long time," Charlie said darkly. "Well, there's only one Josy, anyway. - Dead? Is it?"

"They all are, young one," Grandmother said, making Sebastian eat the blue frog. "You've been busy lately, I take it."

Charlie looked at the amphibians in his hand, "_Aww, crap."_

Shaking his head, Ciel knelt down and met Sebastian's gaze. There was alert attention and no defiance. A good sign.

"I think, your master sent you here to kill me in order to severe the bond between me and my butler. But that's pointless," Ciel told him. "I have a contract with a demon I called by the name of 'Sebastian Michaelis'. And he's not you. You are free. You wouldn't need me to tell you, but since you don't seem to grasp the idea on your own accord, I'm happy to point it out to you again: You. Are. Free."

"You revoke the contract?" It was the first time in days that Ciel heard Sebastian's voice. It rasped, but it was at least free of physical distress.

"No, no, you get it all wrong. I'll try again. Listen closely." Slowly, Ciel reached out and placed his palm on the demon's pale cheek. Sebastian leaned into the touch, inhaling the scent of the boy's skin. His half closed eyes signalled that it was safe for the human to come closer, so Ciel did. He got to all fours and crawled up, leaning on Sebastian's shoulder as he brought his lips next to the demon's black hair.

"Please try and understand that there is no contract between you and me," Ciel whispered into his ear. "There never was. You're not Sebastian. _You_ never took his oath. _You_ never came at my bidding. _You _never chose to be my servant. _You never wanted me._"

"But I do...," the demon whispered.

Ciel reclined, so they could look into each other's eyes. And they did. There was a lot you could get across that way, if you really cared.

Eventually, Ciel nodded to Grandmother, "Let him go. Charlie, return his sword. His master would notice it missing and grow suspicious."

Grandmother released her grip on Sebastian. Moving swiftly and smoothly, the demon got up.

Charlie hesitated, but he held out the sword and Sebastian took it.

Ciel had not yet cared to stand up again. From his angle he saw the demon's black shoes and part of the black-clad legs, and he knew he was being stared at from above. He did not raise his head.

"Maybe I was wrong," he said, his voice tired. "Come and get me, if I was."

The next moment, Sebastian was gone. Ciel thought he heard receding footsteps, but then again, he wasn't really interested in details.

Inhaling deeply, he climbed to his feet.

"But – what did you do?" Charlie asked.

"I've cut the Gordian knot," Ciel said, wondering if he looked as worn out as he suddenly felt. "I've solved the dilemma and restored his capacity to act. I've burnt the bridge between us, and maybe I'll live to regret it, and maybe I won't. But I'm still alive, and so are you, and that outcome truly and literally was gained by the whisker. Of a black cat." Ciel straightened up, drawing new energy from the passion of his own words, "And now, I'm going to get Dreamy Dave. Do you have Sebastian's scent?"

Charlie nodded. "_Uh-huh._ - Do you?" he asked Grandmother.

"Fresh and clear," Grandmother raised her head and sniffed audibly. "Let's go."

Ciel felt himself grabbed from two sides and lifted off his feet. He did not even know whether the two demons were running, flying or using entirely other means of transportation.

Whatever they did, they were going fast.

+++End of Chapter 7+++


	8. Greedy Creatures

Hi there. Another lazy Sunday, another chapter finished. About my summary - yes, well, it's not so easy summarizing a story that does not yet exist. I really had only a vague idea, and this has become so much more complex and intricate than I planned. Eight chapters in less than two months. _Wow. _I sure know where my spare time went. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, or any other characters featured in or related to "Kuroshitsuji" ("Black Butler"), I don't own "Kuroshitsuji" itself, and I do not make money from this.

* * *

Chapter 8: Greedy Creatures

They landed (or stopped, or materialized) in a street, and it was a rather unelegant affair. Unable to catch his balance, Ciel toppled over forwards and caught himself with both hands. Beside him, Charlie winced, clutching his side. The wound Sebastian had given him obviously had not yet healed.

"Are you alright?" Ciel asked. "Where's Grandmother?"

"Where-ever and whenever she wants." Charlie sniffed the air. "But I can tell you exactly where our runaway is."

He pointed at a certain house across the street. There was a weathered signboard of a wine merchant, but the shop was closed and seemed to have been out of office for some time. The door was barred and the windows shuttered. However, there was light in the adjoining window, probably the shop keeper's living quarters.

"Hang on." Charlie seized Ciel and changed their location. Ciel had no better words to explain to himself what the demons did. Here one second – somewhere else, the next.

In this case, he found himself kneeling on a damp, gloomy stairway, peering over the edge of the topmost step. Charlie was beside him and in the room ahead he found Sebastian and his 'master' engaged in a stare-down match. Dreamy Dave was seated comfortably by a fireplace. He held an open book on his lap. and if he'd been startled by his demon's arrival he was past that by now. Sebastian simply stood and smiled at the human. Ciel guessed that Sebastian had had a two minutes headstart at most. But there had obviously some conversation taken place already.

"When I was first taken prisoner by Tuna Tom, I was afraid of being reduced to my hunger for souls," Sebastian said. "It's what your spell does best, you know? Stripping me of clear thoughts, bit by bit, order by order. Now, I don't find the prospect so terrifying at all."

"I don't care whether you welcome it or not," Dreamy Dave said. "But you still cannot argue away the reality that my spell on you holds fast. You cannot hurt me."

Sebastian inched closer. "Please note that I'm not hurting you. I'm just drawing closer, threatening you. You never said anything about threatening you, did you?"

"I could now."

"Do it!" Sebastian commanded, his eyes blazing, and immediately put his smile back on, "Come on, master. Tell me to forget my name. Or your name. Or anything you like. I usually hang on to my wits. But I am more than prepared handle this matter...creatively."

"So I gathered. Back off!"

"Another order to disobey..." Sebastian took yet another step forward. "Getting me closer to the edge, all the time. Closer to your chair, _master_..."

Ciel began to see the way Sebastian had turned the tables. He was dancing on a fine line, ignoring Dreamy Dave's orders, resisting them deliberately. Hoping that the beast at his core, once unleashed, would not be intimidated by whatever torment the spell usually dealt him. A true beast would probably react with even more violent behavior. Ciel did not dare think what might happen. He really had no idea what a deranged demon was capable of.

As if he'd read Ciel's thoughts, Sebastian said, "I don't know what I'll do, once I reach you. Really, I don't." Smiling, he inched forward, even though no order had been given and dismissed. "You're not even close to dying, so your soul is safely hidden. I guess I'll just have to start digging..." He took the tips of his left index and middle finger between his teeth and pulled off his ragged glove.

"Is he serious?" Ciel asked.

"I hope not," Charlie said.

"Your heart, first," Sebastian went on, as the glove dropped to the floor. "Then your throat, looking for the evasive little immaterial fellow trying to escape. Then... we'll come to that. In time."

"You must be aware that I won't do anything to let you enter that state of pure beastliness," Dreamy Dave said. If he was afraid, he was hiding it expertly.

"Don't worry. Keeping talking, as I do, is sufficient. You ordered me to speak only when permitted, remember?"

"I revoke that order," Dreamy Dave said quickly. "You can talk to whomever you like or communicate in any other way."

Sebastian listened inside, "Feels good. Liberating."

"What now, Samiel? Are we going to remain like this, threatening, teasing, glaring, until my men arrive by the first light of tomorrow's morning? They will try and shoot you, I assume. Of course it won't do them any good. But even now, I have two or three ideas of how to escape. All I need is a little distraction to cast the spells. So I ask you again: Are you going to stand there all night?"

Sebastian thought about it.

"No," he said. "If you're still alive by sunrise - which I truly and honestly doubt - I'll let you go. You can walk out that door, but take my advice: In your dying hour, don't think of me or those past days or this conversation. If you think but as much as 'It's been three decades, I wonder, if he still remembers. I wonder, if he's still mad?' – that's when you'll find out."

"I see. I'm not a Zen-master, and since the seed has been planted, this is the fate that awaits me..."

"No, it's not," Charlie said. Startled, Ciel tried to hold him back, but the demon was already up and, taking the steps at one leap, marched into the room. He waved an accusing finger at his cousin, "I don't care how you wreak your personal revenge, mate, but stick to your contracts, you hear me? _Touching their lives, being back at their last breath_ – that's my way of getting things done! Don't go competing with me all of a sudden!"

Sebastian gave him an icy look. "I want him, so you shut up!"

"Oh yeah? Guess what! I want him, too!"

"Don't be even sillier than usual. We've never fought over a soul before!"

"That's simply because we never were of the same opinion on one before. Hey! Did you just call me 'silly'?"

"Demons. Do you find them as exasperating as I do?"

Both demons turned to see whom Dreamy Dave was talking to.

"Mmh-hmm," Ciel agreed, thinking about how he, too, used to hide a gun under his pillow. He tried to ignore that, right now, Dreamy Dave's weapon was aimed at him. He might be the only person around that could be effectively shot, but there were two demons on his side, after all.

His confidence was staggered, when he saw Sebastian actually pale.

"What's he doing here?" Sebastian asked his cousin.

"He wanted to come," Charlie defended himself. "Um. You did, didn't you, cubby?"

"I guess I mentioned something like that, yes." Ciel left unmentioned the fact that he was beginning to have second thoughts on his former carelessness now. He wasn't fond of approaching the trio, but there was no mistaking the way Dreamy Dave moved his gun.

When Ciel had taken a position that made it possible to control both demons and the boy alike, the conjurer made little 'come-hither'-moves with his left hand. "Hand me the sword, Samiel. Nice and slow, meaning: at a speed that will allow a human, namely me, to react accordingly to any attempt of assault on your part."

"Sebastian? Save me! No specifications, just get your act together, and fast!"

Sebastian thrust his sword into Charlie's hands, "You resolve this. I'm out."

"What?" Charlie asked, perplexed. At least, he was sharp enough to keep his eyes on the conjurer. "You can't leave me alone in this!"

"Keep that sword away from me. You're giving me a great opportunity to kill you with it." Sebastian walked past Ciel without looking at him. Ciel could feel a shiver pass through the demon. _Trying to get his act together and still failing._

Sebastian entered the shadows of the dungeon and sat down in the pentagram.

"But just two minutes ago you talked about digging his heart out," Charlie reasoned.

"Two minutes ago," Sebastian said, pronouncing carefully, "I wasn't aware of the presence of the two people I am still bound to stab with that sword you're keeping away from me. Two minutes ago, I was happily going insane. I cannot afford that luxury now. Charlie? You _do_ keep that sword away from me, don't you?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, I do!"

"Good boy. Keep it up." Sebastian closed the metal clamps on his feet and subsequently on his left hand and throat, and finally worked the little spring to chain his right hand.

"Um. What do we do now?" Charlie continued to point his sword at the conjurer who in turn pointed his gun a Ciel. "Hi, Dave. How are you? Survived the dolphins, I see."

"And the mussels and the seahorses."

"Ah. A pity."

"How about you, Charlie? What merciful mermaid got you to the shore? It sure wasn't that little - "

"If you're going to say something unfavorable about Josy, you'd better watch it, _human_!"

Conversation at that point seemed to come to a standstill.

Then, Grandmother emerged from the shadows of Sebastian's cell. She stepped into the pentagram and sat on her heels beside the sprawled demon.

"You look like something sculpted by Leonardo da Vinci, young one," she said. "Do you have any idea where he keeps that damned seal? I've turned this place upside down, assuming that he would not carry an item of such value around with him."

"It's under the slab in the center of the pentagram," Sebastian said. "He put it there to vex me. And to protect it, of course."

Grandmother moved as if to look under him. "So..."

"'So' what, Grandmother?"

"Well, you're _lying_ on that slab, young one."

Sebastian wiggled his right hand. "I apologize for the inconvenience. I can't get up."

"Why would you chain yourself to the floor so effectively?"

"Because everything was easy and under control when there was only Dreamy Dave to hunt down," Sebastian said hotly. "Thanks to Charlie, Ciel is present and I cannot take the risk now... If you're going to retrieve that artefact now, could you maybe just knock me out before you start digging for it? So disobeying its commands won't hurt that much? Please?"

Grandmother snorted and tore the clamp out, freeing his right hand. She tore out the other clamps, too, from his left hand and his feet and lastly his throat. In order to do so, she moved around in the pentagram, crossing the line here and there and overturning a candle holder.

Dreamy Dave stared. "Who is that - creature?"

"Well, his Grandmother of course." Ciel smirked and pointed at the book in the armchair. "In order to master the occult it's not enough to read Paracelsus and Swedenborg and their consorts. When it comes to dealing with demons, the Brothers Grimm might've had news for you."

Grandmother helped Sebastian sit up. "Little one? Can I get down to business now, or do you have yet other plans with the young one?" she asked in Ciel's general direction.

"Go ahead," Ciel said generously.

She didn't ask for Sebastian's opinion or readiness. She simply grabbed him around the shoulders and pressed the heel of her right hand to his brow. "With my voice I call you, with my sigil I waken you, with fire I burn away the spell that is engraved upon your soul - " She looked at Ciel who nodded, ever so slightly, then added, " - Sebastian Michaelis!"

The effect of the counterspell took hold so violently that Sebastian didn't even have time to scream out. And when the surprise was gone, the pain was overwhelming. It felt as if a sea jelly had made a nest in his head and spread its tentacles all through his body, piping through his veins and wreathing around his nerves. Now it was pulling all those filaments back into itself, dealing the host tissue a myriad tiny, sizzling stings in the process.

Sebastian's back arched as he started to squirm and fight. He tried to wrench Grandmother's hand away, but it seemed to be glued to his forehead.

"Sebastian Michaelis," Grandmother repeated with emphasis. Her eyes gleamed brightly red like the afterglow of the sinking sun. Sebastian took his struggles to the next level. He was not fully conscious anymore, and for all he knew and perceived, someone was trying to kick him out of his own body and replace his very being with red hot mercury. He suffered in silence, but he tossed and writhed, trying to get his nails into something that would somehow stop this feeling if maimed and ripped with demonic force.

"You had better left him chained to the floor for this!" Ciel shouted.

"No, that's all right. He'll wear himself out soon enough," Grandmother answered levelly, just as five black-clawed fingers reached up and into her face, tearing bloody gashes. She blinked and smiled down sourly, "Trying hard with all you've got, aren't you? _Sebastian Michaelis?_"

At this third summoning of his name, Sebastian opened his eyes. They were wide and filled with terror. And now, he finally screamed. Grandmother grabbed his shoulders and shook him, "Get a grip, young one! Come around! Wake up!"

He didn't seem to hear her. He kept screaming for his "young master".

"I'm here, Sebastian," Ciel yelled back. "I'm alright! I'm unharmed! Stop raising hell like - "

Dreamy Dave's gun cracked twice, in quick succession. Ciel felt pushed, and he sensed the second bullet go past his ear.

Looking up, he saw Dreamy Dave's contorted face, as he crooked his finger to pull the trigger again. He saw Charlie, clutching his injured side and being a second too late to get in the line of fire and catch the bullet.

_I'll die!_ Ciel thought, feeling astonished rather than shocked. _Hard luck, Seb- _

And then, he saw Charlie dodge seemingly for no reason at all, and a piece of metal sticking in Dreamy Dave's chest. The conjurer gave a surprised sound that was quickly choked and turned into a noise resembling a gargle.

Ciel retraced the projectiles imaginary trajectory and was not really surprised to find Sebastian at its origin. The demon had fallen silent, but he looked pale and gaunt, and he still panted with exertion. He sat, steadying himself with one arm around Grandmother's neck. With his free hand, he seemed to grope for something on the stone floor.

Something in his gaze shifted as Ciel looked on. It took the young earl a moment to make out what it was: human-looking round pupils narrowing to cat-like vertical slits.

That butler was back in his senses.

And furious.

Another sharp-edged metal clamp swished past and hit Dreamy Dave in the left thigh. Another followed, hitting the torso, and another - two thighs were now skewered - and a fifth, and it was the last one that was aimed at the man's head and proved fatal. Dreamy Dave stood as if in surprise. Slowly, he touched his bleeding brow. He raised his head, focussing his glance on Ciel, and started to say something.

Charlie rose in front of him and gave the dying man a little push with his flat hand. Then he sidestepped and looked on with cold, glittering eyes.

Ciel scrambled to get out of the way as Dreamy Dave toppled over. Crouching at the wall, he sensed the gathering of powers that should not be in the same room with any human alive and bent on staying in his right mind. He knew what was going to happen. But it was so much more disturbing to see _three _shadows rise and surround the corpse: one ancient, one boisterous, one dragging behind, but greedy and determined nonetheless.

_Mine!_ They tore at each other like magpies fighting over a dead weasel. The ancient shadow batted away the young ones who teamed up and fought back. _Mine! Mine! Wanting! Hungry! Mine!_

Was it real? Was he just imagining things? Ciel closed his eyes and put his hands on his ears. Whatever it was, he did not want to see the end. He conjured up the image of a large mug filled with hot chocolate. Steaming hot chocolate with cream and sugar pearls, yes, lots of sugar pearls... Ciel focussed on watching them plunge into the mug one by one. Before long, he inevitably felt his butler's hand on his elbow, _Don't put in so much sugar, young master, you'll spoil your appetite._

_This is my dream, so I'll do whatever I want, shut it!_

Moving his arm briskly and grunting, Ciel snapped out of his daydream. He quickly realized that there actually _was _a demon's hand on his elbow, and he dove for the gun under his pillow.

"What are you doing, cubby?" Charlie asked good-naturedly. "Get a grip on yourself. No one's harming you."

Ciel blinked. Charlie looked so almost human, his smile was amiable. Sebastian was still sitting on the stone floor of his cell, holding his head and looking like he might faint any moment. Grandmother scratched at a particular stone in the center of the pentagram.

"There we go," she said, lifting the slab and producing the Babylonian artefact."Now, to find a really safe place..."

She seemed to sense Ciel's stare and turned to counter it. Her smile was sympathetic and condescent at equal parts, dismissing it all with nothing but a shrug of her shoulders: the young mortal's doubts, his anxiety, his questions.

Ciel asked them nevertheless, avoiding the terrified look frozen on Dreamy Dave's dead face, "Charlie? What happened?"

"I got distracted. Looked at Sebastian, instead of Dave. He shot me and then fired at you, while I was busy catching my balance. I'm not really in top shape right now."

"Yet, you managed to push me."

"Your species _is _sort of sluggish." Charlie helped Ciel up and prodded the clamps in the man's dead body with his toes, "Nice throw, cousin."

"I meant to hit you," Sebastian murmured.

Charlie frowned. "Such hostility. I donated you my last blue frog."

"Indeed," Sebastian mumbled.

"The posion - there had to be a reason for his poor aim," Ciel said, smiling against his habit. "That's what you meant to say, didn't you, Sebastian?"

"Young master, I ask your forgiveness," Sebastian said. "I could not read my watch even if I tried; my vision seems all shady and blurred. But it appears we've missed tea time."

"Sebastian? It's night outside, and we missed at least four tea times."

"All your fault, Charlie." Sebastian swayed sitting down. "I'm sooo going to murder - "

"Now, now," Grandmother said, catching him in her arms. "Only swear when you're able to look the man straight in the eye, young one." She smiled. "The emphasis being on 'straight'."

Ciel doubted that Sebastian still heard her. Getting to her feet, Grandmother lifted the demon just the way he preferred to carry Ciel: one arm behind his back, the other wedged under his knees. Neither her burden's size nor his weight seemed to bother her.

"I'll take him back to the mansion. Put him to bed," she said. "There's only one problem."

"What?" Ciel asked warily. He really did not want to hear of any more issues tonight.

Grandmother presented him her arms, full of Sebastian, both of them, "I'll have to come back for you."

"I'm sure, Charlie will - "

"Charlie," said Grandmother, "has decided to leave and lick his own wounds."

Ciel looked around, and sure enough there was no demon with a floppy hat anywhere in sight.

"I'll cope," he said – just to find that Grandmother and Sebastian were gone as well. When he turned to leave through the door, Grandmother was standing right behind him.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you, little one," she said, seeing him start. She swooped him up and spirited him over the distance, straight into his parlor.

* * *

Tea was ready on Ciel's arrival, but it had not been prepared by Sebastian. The demon was out cold, looking sicker than Ciel had ever seen him before or even thought possible. Even his hair seemed to have lost its sheen and taken on a dusty patina. Ciel seemed to plan on spending the rest of the night at his butler's bedside. Grandmother had told him there was no need to keep vigil over a demon whose attitude toward sleep was an "all or nothing" affair, with only the shortet time of transition between states.

But Ciel stayed nevertheless, sipping his tea, waiting.

His care and attention, however, did not outlast the contents of his teapot. Sebastian had not stirred, and Ciel did not even need to move quietly as he left.

When Ciel returned the next morning, the demon was still sleeping, but looking much better. The dark circles around his eyes were gone, his face was relaxed and his hair had regained its shine. He was breathing softly and regularly as Ciel sat on the bedside.

The young earl leaned forward.

"Sebastian?" he asked quietly, "Come!"

He could tell that his summon was being received. It had to make its way through layers of cotton wool dizziness and mild disorientation, but it registered.

"Come," Ciel repeated.

Sebastian stretched and turned his head on the pillow, then opened his eyes.

"That was dangerous, young master," he said without introduction.

"Welcome back, Sebastian," Ciel replied, wondering if his butler had really gone from comatose to wide awake and recalling his last conscious moments in less than five seconds. "What do you mean?"

"Everything. But most of all, confronting me like you did." Sebastian turned over and leaned on one elbow. "What if I'd killed you?"

"I'd be dead, of course. But that wouldn't have happened. I was perfectly safe," Ciel said.

"How can you be so sure?"

"You were not single-minded about your task. You had plenty of opportunities to kill me. Yet, I am alive."

Still leaning on his elbow, Sebastian began to casually pick at the sheets with his free hand, "Charlie protected you."

"And it sure was a nice thing of him to do. But do you really think he would've stayed, if you had told him to move out of the way? Or Grandmother? Moral standards don't apply to your kind. Charlie was there because it suited him. Maybe he was fed up with his girlfriend's attitudes and looking for a distraction."

"I'll agree to that. But what about me? Why, do you think, did I hold back?"

"At some point in our quest Charlie told me that you wanted me," Ciel said. "You obviously told him so from the very start. He couldn't give me reasons for your decision, but I believed him. So, when you faced me wielding that sword, I hoped – no, I knew you would not kill me. Because you had obviously wanted me even before you became Sebastian. Or this Samiel-creature. But if your desire for me was at the bottom of all this – our first meeting, our contract, our lives as master and butler - how, then, could anything make you forget it now?"

"Dreamy Dave had already made me forget your name," Sebastian pointed out quietly.

"Maybe he had. But demons are a stubborn brood. You always resisted the idea that you would finish me off just because some stupid, short-lived and boisterous mortal told you to. It was a whim, and you wouldn't play along with it. Because a contract has to be made willingly, and you never _agreed_ to playing along, and anyway, none of all this argument ever really counted. Because the one, plain truth is _that the beast at your core wants me_. Is that not so?"

Sebastian closed his eyes and smiled, "I want you, young master," he said and shook his head lightly. "But it's that - and so much more. You cannot possibly imagine the intensity of a demon's craving." He opened his eyes again, just wide enough to peer through the long, black eyelashes. It was a sharp look, a piercing look, "I could forget your name, but not your scent. Not the sound of your voice or the rhythm of your beating heart. I am a greedy creature, a predator with senses as keen as your gift of observation, young master, and there is something that I want of you, mind, body and – everything else, too."

"And there's something that _I'm_ greedy for," Ciel said. "And I've been waiting for days and all of tonight to tell you."

"And what would that be, mylord?"

Ciel straightened up and took a deep breath, "I want a hot chocolate," he confided in his butler. "A whole mug full. Milk base, not water. With cream."

"Yes, mylord." Sebastian was out of bed in a flash and hit by dizziness; he clung to the bedpost, then stood.

Ciel placed his finger against his lip, thinking, "Do we have almond syrup in our stock? Add some."

Sebastian zipped about, combing his hair, putting on a vest, a tailcoat, his tie, his gloves, "Yes, mylord."

"And sugar pearls?"

Tying his shoes, donning an apron, adjusting his cuffs, "Yes, mylord."

"I want plenty of those. Keep filling them in, until you think it's enough to spoil my appetite for days to come, and then add three more spoonfuls. And, Sebastian - ?"

Sebastian turned, his gloved hand on the doorknob, "Yes, mylord?"

Ciel waved lazily, "Go ahead. I just needed to see you answer to that name."

+++End of Chapter 8+++

* * *

A/N: Dear me, I made it. Everyone's up and about, everyone's happy. We could leave it at that. But in fact there are one or two threads I would like to tie up, so there will be one more chapter.


	9. Remember your vow!

Hi there. As promised, I am back with the final chapter. Did I claim that "Everyone's happy", when I signed off last time? Of course, that's not quite true. There is still one character who needs to get his life back under control. Guess who?

(risi, if you're still reading - this reencounter is for you)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sebastian, Ciel, or any other characters featured in or related to "Kuroshitsuji" ("Black Butler"), I don't own "Kuroshitsuji" itself, and I do not make money from this.

* * *

Chapter 9: Remember your Vow!

When Charlie returned to Phantomhive manor, he found Sebastian in the entrance hall, mending the the picture that his cousin had used to beat him over the rail. The wooden frame was already back in one piece, but the canvas was giving him trouble.

"Why don't you find some craftsman specialized in such things?" Charlie asked, looking over Sebastian's shoulder.

"As the butler to the Phantomhive family, I should be able to handle such a repair." Sebastian stepped back to assess his work and wiped his brow with his sleeve.

"But you're losing your temper. I can tell by the way you glower at your piece of work. Aren't there servants in this house who could assist you?"

"They won't go near this picture. They are afraid of the portrayed pack of hunting dogs at the earl's feet. Someone must've given them the idea that there was a hellhound on their heels. You don't happen to know anything about it?"

"Me? No way. It was Grandma supervising them in your absence."

Sebastian put down his tools and sighed, "Too bad I cannot ask her. She left yesterday. At least I assume she did, because her luggage is missing."

"The cubby isn't in tonight either, is he?"

"_Mylord _has chosen to spend the evening at a business partner's house," Sebastian said.

"Oh great. Listen. Would you come with me to the pub where Josy works? I need to talk to her. But she won't let me in when she's at home. I've tried, I really did! Shouting, reasoning, pleading, begging, the whole repertoire - just to get into her parlor and have a decent conversation."

"Except for just _being there_. I am surprised that you should respect her privacy in a matter so obviously important to you. I remember episodes when you were not half as considerate..." Sebastian shook his head. "Embarrassing episodes."

"You mean like Bavaria, Castle Neuschwanstein? The incident with that inappropriately clad countess?"

"The _naked_ countess who got entangeld with her nightgown over her head, since your entry had scared her maids away."

"_Our _entry," Charlie corrected levelly. "You were there, too."

"However I got talked into it...," muttered Sebastian to the side.

"Listen, this is different. This is about _Josy's_ privacy. And I promise we're not going to end up with challenges for about half a dozen duels of honour each. Are you coming or not?"

Sebastian thought about his tasks for tonight. He wasn't aware of any household chores that couldn't wait till next morning. He was probably supposed to mend this picture, but he needed quiet to do it properly, and he wasn't going to get that while Charlie was around, feeling blue and abandoned.

And last but not least, he'd planned to re-visit the pub anyway, and he had an over-all feeling that it was probably alright for him to go there tonight. He probably should ask Ciel, but then again - he would hear his master's call and be back (or where-ever Ciel wanted him to be) right away.

"Alright, I'm with you," he said. "Charlie? You are not stretching or bending the truth this time, are you? You simply need me around to back you up, as you talk to Josy."

"Back me up. Yes, that's the idea. You noticed the gaslight on the other side of the street in front of the place? The one with the broken glass? See you there. Cheerio."

Playfully, Charlie turned a cartwheel.

Sebastian skipped.

The hall was empty.

* * *

The owner of the pub was not happy when a street urchin with an eye patch asked to be admitted to the kitchen to warm up. His face, however, grew more friendly when the youth tossed him a good coin.

"I'll stay for an hour or two," the youth said. "I don't want anything, no food, no tea. Especially not tea, pray you. I'll sit by the fire and stay out of the way."

"Well then, go on in." The man reached past Ciel and opened the door for him. There were tables and chairs and lots of cheap food. There was a backdoor and a fireplace with a big kettle, and a greasy looking fat cook with a stained apron stirring the stew. A couple of barmaids were getting ready for work, chattering as they helped each other with the aprons.

Josy spotted Ciel at the door and came over, "Mylord? Is that you?"

"Shh. Yes. It's me."

"What are you doing here?" Josy whispered.

"I'm here as a favor to a – to _someone_."

"Charlie? You're doing a favor for Charlie?"

Ciel was amazed by her sharp wit. He nodded.

"He sent you to convince me to forgive him?" Josy asked, following Ciel to a bench. The young earl sat down, casually dangling his feet and looking around. He said, "No, he'll come himself. I'm here, so his plan can work."

"What plan?"

"Bringing Sebastian here, unsuspecting." Ciel wondered how much he should tell her. But she was stuck with a demon, too. It might even be good, exchanging their experiences. "It's quite simple, actually. Sebastian will follow me whereever I go. I didn't tell him I'd be here tonight. But it shouldn't be hard for Charlie to convince him to come. He'll find the idea attractive. Somehow, he knows."

"Charlie always seems to know where I am," Josy said. "I used to think he was just being attentive. Now, I think it's got something to do with...well, scents. Like a bloodhound chasing a vixen."

"Like a dog following his mistress," Ciel said. "That's the way you should look at it. And he would need to be very attentive always to know where you are. Sebastian is so used to my scent that he'll smell it only when it occurs to him to focus on it."

"Like looking at the sky and realizing that it's blue," Josy said thoughtfully. "You don't always do that. Consciously, I mean. But when you do, it makes your day..."

"Did Charlie say that? What did you answer?"

Josy blushed. "I told him to sleep it off and come back when he was making sense."

"Oh. How _romantic _of you."

"He deserved it." Josy pouted.

Silently and for other reasons, Ciel thought that she was probably right.

* * *

The demons emerged side by side just outside the circle of light of the assigned lantern. Charlie's hand immediately went to the lower ribs of his left side. Sebastian grabbed hold of his arm, supporting him. "Does it still hurt?"

"A little," Charlie said between clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry. I was supposed to kill you as the opportunity presented itself."

"Then why am I still alive, I wonder?" Charlie straightened up. "Come on, tell me. We both know you're far out of my league when it comes to fighting and tumbling about helter-skelter. How many opportunities did you waste before you found one too obvious to resist?"

"An awful lot, actually." Sebastian started to cross the street. Charlie followed.

"How about Ciel? You _could_ have pretended that this was no longer your business, eaten his soul and be done with it, no hard feelings."

"You don't understand," Sebastian stopped in front of the pub and turned. "I want to kill you. But in my own time. I want Ciel's soul. But on my own terms. The moment I killed any of you on account of Dreamy Dave's order, I'd have known I'd been defeated. And that was simply out of the question."

"You call _that _'simple'?"

Sebastian entered the pub, overlooking the colorful scene of humans talking, laughing, smoking, gambling and drinking, "I am the butler to the Phantomhive family, and I won't be defeated by a mortal's twopenny mumbo jumbo."

"There she is," Charlie breathed.

Sebastian saw Josy standing at the counter. She was in the act of lifting a tray full of glasses. But she had stopped and gazed at the two demons. The girl's glance was frosty, and Charlie seemed well and properly frozen by it.

"Go talk to her," Sebastian urged. "That's what you came here to do."

"Don't push me."

"I'll even kick you, if need be. Now move." Putting his hand on Charlie's back, Sebastian shoved and steered the reluctant demon towards the counter. Josy waited for them which seemed a good sign. The ensueing conversation was not half as promising.

"Er. Hi, Josy," Charlie said.

"Get lost," she said.

"Um. You mean, like, right now?" Charlie asked.

Sebastian decided that Josy had to like his cousin a lot. Because she still seemed prepared to listen and even put a question of her own, "You're not human, are you?"

"No, but, er, I never let you feel it, did I? Um. I - I mean - it even took you quite some time to notice, right?"

Sebastian started to facepalm, then turned the gesture quickly into the neutral move of tucking his hair behind his ear.

"You seem a little brighter than that numbskull," Josy told him, looking him up and down. "Sebastian, isn't it? You can tell your cousin he's a twit."

She pushed past, finally intent on serving the drinks on her tray.

"A twit?" Charlie echoed forlornly.

"There are worse names she could have called you," Sebastian briefly wondered whether he should offer some examples that sprang to his mind. But he decided against it. There were times for taunting and times for giving support. For all his shortcomings, you could definitely be a worse character than Charlie.

Sebastian nudged his cousin, "Talk to her," he ordered.

"But will she listen?"

"Of course. If you wait until she stops for breath."

Doubtfully, Charlie looked in the direction of the girl who was busy serving the drinks.

"Please," Sebastian pressed. "I already have three incompetent servants to supervise, plus one spoiled brat to obey. Please, don't be the fifth to load the responsibility for his fortune onto my narrow shoulders."

Josy was heading for the kitchen. Feeling Sebastian's heel prod his shin, Charlie moved to block her way. She prepared to avoid him, balancing her tray skillfully. The edge of the disc cut through the air. Charlie ducked and Josy managed to slip past. She proceeded towards the kitchen with quick, determined strides.

"Josy! Wait!" Charlie hurried after the girl. Sebastian heard a heated argument starting behind the closed door and didn't feel inclined to join in. This was definitely something Charlie had to figure out on his own.

Besides, Sebastian was here for another purpose. Looking across the room, he found Sharktooth Rob seated at his table, observing the little scene. Approaching him, Sebastian put two fingers in the pocket of his vest and produced the gold ring he had won for Tuna Tom.

"Here." He smiled and bowed, presenting the jewel to the old sailor. "I retrieved it for you. It's yours. If you don't mind that it was taken from a dead man's cooling hand, that is..."

"That seems to be exactly the way this ring is passed on," Sharktooth Rob said. "But I can't take it back just like that. No obligations to the likes of you, sir."

"I remember." Slightly disappointed, Sebastian moved to pocket the ring again.

"However - ," the old sailor quickly said. "However, if you would stake it in a game of knives..."

"We've been through that," Sebastian reminded him. "You're chanceless."

"I know but one thing that moves in this world and cannot be overcome by man, and that is the storm at high sea," stated Sharktooth Rob darkly and placed his knife on the table. "Care for a game, sir?"

"I don't have time for games."

"Oh yes. I can see you are a busy man with tasks of his own. We can change the rules to fit your schedule."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes and started to smile. "You really want that ring, do you?"

The old sailor nodded solemnly, "Aye. I want it."

Sebastian moved a chair and sat down. "All right. Tell me about the rules."

"We'll play a fixed number of rounds. Let's say, five – no, six. We drink ale. Two pints a round. While one of us drinks, the other one plays. Once the drink is finished the other one stops playing. And I suggest that we take count of our stabs. It takes a little practice, but I'd expect you to be quick on the uptake. This way we'll have a winner, even if no one blunders with the blade."

"I see," Sebastian said. "At least you won't necessarily get hurt for the game to be decided. But I'm afraid the whole affair will still be pointless."

"Nothing that will lateron serve as a story should be considered pointless." Sharktooth Rob raised two fingers and conferred with the bartender in an intricate series of signs. Josy was still in the kitchen with Charlie, so one of her colleagues served the first round of ale.

Sebastian had planned to go slow at drinking and playing alike. He figured that there was only one way Sharktooth Rob stood the tiniest of chances. He had to win by the amount of stabs. But before long, Sebastian found he just didn't have it in himself to lose deliberately. Even more important than that, there were new things to learn about a human shaped, physical body, and the demon grew increasingly eager for the experience.

He found that there was a limit to how fast you could stab and count aloud, even if you blurted out the figures by sets of "ten, and ten, and ten". He found that there was a limit inherent to the speed at which you could take in liquid without mixing up the activities of gulping and breathing. And it occurred to him that chances _were _even, considering that he might just not have the capacity for twelve pints, if he had to chug them at their present rate.

Sebastian finished his sixth ale, shivered and reached for the knife. It had become a natural rhythm, stabbing and announcing the number of stabs by "ten and ten and ten". However, Rob had not nearly downed half of his pint when the demon stopped both, counting and moving. The knife was stuck neatly in his hand. Sebastian stared at it with wide, baffled eyes. "But..."

He tugged. His hand was firmly pinned. Blood was flowing onto the table, and the sight was so extraordinary that Sebastian almost forgot to make it stop.

"It seems, I win, sir," Rob said.

"But - " Sebastian was clearly at a loss and trying to catch on with what had happened - and how.

"That was quick." Out of nowhere, Charlie was standing next to Sebastian's chair. He leaned forward, picked up the gold ring and handed it to Rob. "It's yours. Well done."

Rob accepted the ring and nodded. "Thank you, sir. Our score is settled, then."

"But – you said, no obligations to the likes of us," Sebastian protested.

"Oh, he's not obligated to me," Charlie said off-handedly, nodding his head down to the old sailor again. "I was indebted to him."

"Indebted?"

Charlie gave his cousin a long, glowering look. "Three words: I can't swim."

"You can't -?" Sebastian fell silent. His face was blank. Every three or so seconds, he blinked in a very slow and controlled way.

Charlie's pupils had narrowed to angry vertical slits. "I've noticed before that no-one seemed interested in finding out just why I didn't stay and watch Tuna Tom and Dreamy Dave sink to the bottom of the ocean. An obvious question, one should think. But _nooo_ – with you guys it was just 'Charlie, how could you?', 'Charlie, why didn't you?', _Charlie, Charlie, Charlie..._"

"I have a question now," Sebastian said.

"No, you don't, shut up!"

"Yes, I do. I'd really - " Sebastian tried to gesture with his left hand, found it pinned and abandoned the effort. "I'd really like to know: How does one go treasure diving, if he can't swim?"

"You go down on a rope, you come back up on a rope," Charlie said surly. "Or, if you wanna go real deep, you befriend a good-natured spermwhale. They are a great help with giant squids, too."

"Ramón? You had Ramón eaten by a spermwhale?"

"_Trouble_," Charlie continued with raised voice, deliberately passing over Sebastian's comment, "trouble starts when there is no rope and no whale to hold on to. Our kind don't drown. But we _can_ lose orientation and get filled to the brim with salt water. When the ship sank, I couldn't hover over the scene because of the storm, and I couldn't stay in the water because of the waves. So I decided to be here, in London."

"Zeroing in on Josy. That makes sense, I guess."

"I had to hover a bit to realise it wouldn't work," Charlie said. "I lost orientation the instant I was plunged into the waves by the sheer force of the gale. I made it here, exhausted, drenched and half filled with salt water. Rob was as startled as everyone else by my...sudden arrival. But he is a man of action. He hung me over a chair to dry and told Josy, who had been in the kitchen, a pretty story to explain my presence. He even convinced some of the other guests that everything was perfectly normal. It saved my identity as a 'human' in this part of town, as well as my relationship with Josy. Not to mention the benefit of being administered something like first aid. That's why I owed him. And then, Josy told me about you winning that gold ring from him, and I couldn't find it on Tom when he was dead, and I made an educated guess as to what might have happened. I've known you for some time now, and it obviously paid off. I'm sort of glad you consider it funny..."

Extremely funny and irresistibly so, as it seemed. Sebastian covered his face with his right hand and giggled.

"Dear me," said Charlie. "How much have you had?"

"If you would hear my humble advice, sir: Take him home as long as you don't have to carry him," Sharktooth Rob said. "This ale is very likely the most potent booze I've ever tasted in the whole of Britain."

Charlie grinned. "No doubt, it is. I nicked it from Grandfather's stock. They probably use similar stuff in Sibiria to defrost their dog sleighs."

It was a lame joke, but Sebastian cracked up, giggling helplessly, desperately, until tears came into his eyes and the hysteric sounds were mingled with hiccups.

Charlie watched him with an amused expression. "My dear fellow, you're getting intoxicated."

"I'm not," Sebastian managed to get out between giggles and hiccups and sobbing gasps for breath, because his sides were starting to hurt. "But my left hand is pinned like some stupid butterfly, and I survived spells and drug lords and poison dart frogs only to hear you say that you put me through all of this because you can't swim. And I also think you said just now that you nicked this ale from Grandfather, which means he brewed it - " Guided by Charlie's hand on his elbow, Sebastian got to his feet. He kept talking like he'd forget to breathe if he stopped, " - which means our kind might get drunk on it, if their cousin were a moron and decided to slip them, let's say six pints of that stuff, just so he could settle his friggin' scores - "

"Yep, you're drunk." Charlie smiled amiably.

"I'm not. I'm furious. And I simply don't believe this!"

"Whatever. Are you going to be sick on your shoes?"

"_NO! _"

"Good boy. Keep it up. Josy?" Charlie signaled the girl to come over. "Josy, I know you're still mad and of course you've got all the rights and good reasons to tell me off. But my cousin here, he's not feeling well, and we're pretty far from home, so I wondered if..."

"Save your breath, Charlie. I know what you want. It's not like I have much of a choice left, do I?" Josy looked at Sebastian with expert eyes, then turned briskly and waved Charlie and his burden to follow. "Come on. We'll find him a place in the wardrobe, and when my shift's over we can take him home. At least, there're no rats under the bed anymore."

"That was easier than I thought," Charlie whispered, his eyes gleaming with delight. "See, Sebastian? Rob got his ring back, I settled my scores with him, and Josy is about to allow me back to her place. Thanks to your fuzzy head, everyone's happy. Ain't that worth it?"

"Screw you, Charlie," Sebastian mumbled and squirmed out of Charlie's grip. He leaned on the backrest of his chair and met Sharktooth Rob's glance. "Care for a game, human?"

The mariner's eyes sparkled. "What's the stake, sir?"

"I'll stake my watch for your knife." Sebastian put his watch on the table. "I need it to kill my cousin. Stop tugging my sleeve, Charlie. This time, I really mean it."

But Charlie wouldn't let up, and Sebastian followed him a few steps away from the table. Charlie turned him around, grabbed his shoulders and gave him a shake.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "Do you realize we're going to hit rock bottom in the most pitiful way imaginable? That fellow's a monster at holding his liquor."

Sebastian smiled. "We?"

"Can't leave you alone very well, can I? You're drunk."

Sebastian's sneer intensified. "Can't have me get that knife, can you? You're scared."

"That's right. Just keep smiling as long as you can," Charlie said, steering them back to the old sailor's table. "Rob? I'm game."

"What's your stake, then, sir?" Rob asked.

Casting Sebastian a mean look, Charlie produced a book and put it on the table.

"Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under The Sea?" Sebastian asked. "That's the book I lent you. It belongs to the young master." He looked closer and detected something. "_You singed it!_"

"That's what normally happens, when you pass a book through a fireplace." Charlie snatched the book away, as Sebastian lunged for it. Sebastian overbalanced and only just avoided landing headlong on the table. Charlie laughed at him, waving his trophy, daring him to try again.

* * *

In the back of the room, Josy and Ciel huddled behind the ajar kitchen door, peering out.

"Are you worried about your butler, mylord?" Josy asked, when the young earl inhaled sharply.

Ciel shook his head. "It's just - To think that I hired the masters of the rarest martial arts just to see him floored. Complete waste of time and effort. And now, look at this! All I needed to do was let his cousin loose on him."

"Who, do you think, will win?"

"Sebastian, if I order him."

"Charlie, if I ask him to do it for me," Josy said.

Ciel cast her a quick glance. "Want to bet?"

"I can't afford your stakes, mylord."

"Come on. The fun's in the game, not the prize. A coffee and a plum pudding?"

"Oh. Alright."

"Settled then," Ciel said. "What's so funny?"

"Black coffee won't help," Josy giggled, girlishly hiding her face behind her hand. "Believe me, I know! It won't help at all. Cold water does."

"Oh. I see." Ciel smirked, as he returned to watching. "Got to remember that."

* * *

Over at Sharktooth Rob's table, the demons had finished grappling for the book and settled down on their chairs. Josy's colleague had brought more ale, and Sharktooth Rob sat comfortably leaned back, studying his counterparts.

"Ready when you are, sirs," he said.

Charlie pushed the knife toward the old sailor. "You go first, Rob. But wait. Since I'm almost certain we're going to screw up - " He raised his glass. "Sebastian?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Come _on_. Not that old - "

"You took a vow, cousin!"

"This is ridiculous. You cannot tell me that the others - "

"Yes, they do. You haven't been home for quite some time, but let me tell you: Nothing has changed."

"Oh dear. Alright." Sebastian looked around, feeling curiously attracted to the kitchen door. "I hope no-one I know is watching..."

"In a place like this?" Charlie rose from his chair. "Highly unlikely."

With an orchestrated, sweeping move both demons reached across the table and clinked glasses, then held that position.

"Remember our pact, the only one I ever made," Charlie intoned gravely. "Last one standing gets the other out. Safely, if possible."

"If not possible, sneak out and find Grandma," Sebastian recited. "Yes. I remember."

Charlie grinned at their outstretched hands and touching glasses. "But whatever you do..."

"Never _ever _let her find out first about what you did. If she does - "

" - play dead and let me know - "

" - so I may help you make it look convincing." Sebastian sighed. "_Oh dear, how I'd love to!_"

"Discussed, agreed and sealed with a vow, for the reason that it's reasonable. Stop snickering."

"We were a hell of a bunch of hatchlings, when we made this one up, weren't we, Charlie?"

"To Grandma, we still are. That's why it's still in use among us. The 'young ones'." Charlie sat down and gave Rob a nod. "Let's play."

Sharktooth Rob smiled his scurvy-ruined smile.

"Well, sirs," he said, picking up the knife. "If that's how you want it to go, then I guess it is worth the try."

+++The End+++

* * *

A/N: Well, that's the wrap. Thank you so much for reading and letting me know that you enjoyed the story. I, too, was amazed by the turns it took. Originally, I thought that Grandmother would be some kind of guardian for the rules of a contract and set things right. But I soon realized that it didn't feel right to get her actively involved. (Lateron, I realized that she wasn't even really 'nice'.)

But I was not two chapters into the story, and stuck.

I asked myself, "How can I keep Sebastian from simply killing Ciel?" The answer, of course, was, "You can't." And I realized that I was picturing another demon, pictured him leaning at my desk, looking nonchalant and eating poison dart frogs... But he must've been on my mind from the get-go, because he had already left his marks in the first chapter that I had put online a week before. That's what I love about inspiration. The rest was, well - writing it down and lots of fun.


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